


EX'tINCTION

by letsjustfckngo



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drama, Drama & Romance, M/M, Multi, Superpowers, Time Travel, Violence, pathcode
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-14
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:47:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 24,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23143396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/letsjustfckngo/pseuds/letsjustfckngo
Summary: Following a series of disturbing, confusing and unfortunate events, twelve guys find themselves in a quick need for self-exploration, so that the balance of life can be restored.Or: an interpretation of what those damned pathcodes were all about.
Relationships: (and more), Byun Baekhyun/Oh Sehun, Kim Junmyeon | Suho/Wu Yi Fan | Kris, Kim Minseok | Xiumin/Lu Han, OT12
Comments: 18
Kudos: 27





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So... 
> 
> I've literally been working on this since the beginning of 2020. I've posted a 'first chapter' of this fic before, but once I realised it wasn't quite right I deleted it and came up with something new. This idea is so huge in my head that I really cannot wait to find out how it's going to turn out. So far, I am happy with this chapter and I really hope that whoever will read this will enjoy it too! 
> 
> Please give feedback if you have any! I'd love to hear what you all think!
> 
> \- N.R.

"Where are you going? Don't go!"  
  
The room was dark, but light from the hallway seeped in through the small opening Junmyeon had just created. Sehun's eyes were opened wide and his heart was racing, the idea of being left all by himself not appealing to him at all. Who knew what could happen to him like that? Too much had happened already, and Sehun was counting on Junmyeon to make his current predicament the slightest bit more normal.  
  
"Sehun-ah," Junmyeon spoke quietly. His voice was gentle and soft, but it didn't make Sehun calm down just yet. "I'm sorry. I thought you were asleep."  
  
"I was, but... I felt you leaving. You promised you wouldn't!" And that was true. A few months ago, when Sehun had been paralysed with fear in his bed at night, he had made Junmyeon promise him he would never leave him alone as he slept. Sehun had every reason to believe that the older boy hadn't broken that promise yet. So why was he about to?  
  
Junmyeon stood still, hesitated, but eventually stepped back to Sehun's bed. He knelt down beside it, his hand moving to Sehun's forehead, stroking his hair back. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."  
  
Sehun sighed. He would have believed this, was it not for the fact that their bedroom door wasn't shut yet. "Where were you going?" He asked, eyes glued on Junmyeon. The dark made it too hard to read his expression, but he tried nonetheless.  
  
"I need to help someone," Junmyeon explained quietly. His voice was almost a whisper.  
  
Sehun knew it might be selfish, but he couldn't help it. He couldn't be alone in a room at night. His feelings could betray him and he could get so scared he'd wreck total havoc once again. He didn't want that to happen, so he reached out for Junmyeon's wrist and took a firm hold of it. "Please..."  
  
Junmyeon looked at Sehun's hand, and then sighed. He gave in, and seated himself on the edge of Sehun's bed. "Do you remember the first night you were here?" he asked Sehun.  
  
Sehun did. That was two years ago now, when he had only been fourteen. He didn't want to remember it in great detail, so he only allowed himself to think about the overwhelming fear of what it had been like to be in an unfamiliar place, just hours after he had said goodbye to his parents for good. Not because they had died, or anything like that, but because they hadn't had any other choice. Sehun just hadn't known that at the time, his mind having been as much of the whirlwind as the one he had summoned out of anger -- somehow -- to cause destruction upon his hometown.  
  
"Yes, I do." The grip he held around Junmyeon's wrist didn't falter.  
  
"They've found two more of us," Junmyeon said it quietly, as if no one else was allowed to hear it. He was calm and collected, even though the words he'd just let out were nothing to be calm about. "And they need my help. Just like you needed my help."  
  
Even through his fear, Junmyeon had been the only person he'd instantly trusted when he first came here. There was something serene about him that had made him a great comfort. Back then, but also now, even though Sehun was growing more and more fearful of the fact Junmyeon was dead set on leaving him here. Even worse, Sehun knew that Junmyeon was right. If there were really two more of them here, Junmyeon needed to help them.  
  
He let out a deep breath, which ended in a whine.  
  
"You're much stronger than you think now, Sehunie," Junmyeon pulled his hand free from Sehun's grip, which had finally become looser. The older boy then leaned down and pressed a kiss to his temple. Sehun's eyes dared to flutter shut. "I promise I'll be back, but first you need to let me help our brothers. Can you do that for them?"  
  
Finally, Sehun nodded. His mind wandered to the breathing techniques Junmyeon had taught him. Like that, he could control even the most aggressive of storms. If he just kept the fear and the anger out, he could do it. He would cause no further destruction.  
  
"Very well." Sehun could hear that Junmyeon was smiling. "I believe you can do it. So, when you start doubting yourself, you can believe me instead. Alright?"  
  
Sehun took a deep breath, and nodded again. The weight beside him disappeared and just like that, Junmyeon left, the door falling shut with just the gentlest of thuds.  
  


  
Jongdae wasn't sure how he was still capable of thinking anything coherent, but at least it was the best coping mechanism he had available in the otherwise silent car. He shared his ride with a driver and his companion, both blocked off by tinted glass, and another boy whose name they'd said was Baekhyun, who had done something horrible enough to be banished from civilisation. But in this car, fast asleep, Baekhyun didn't feel like any sort of threat to him.  
  
Jongdae would have felt bad for him, was it not for the fact that the other boy's presence had him utterly confused. Why would Jongdae be sharing his destination with someone who had allegedly committed a terrible crime, when Jongdae wasn't even sure what exactly he was being driven off for? All his parents had told him was that Jongdae was getting in the way of business and that it was about time he acquired a sense of maturity, which they just so happened to have found the perfect place for. Needless to say, Jongdae simply assumed his parents had used their wealth to give him a luxury ride to some type of military base.  
  
So what was criminal Baekhyun going there for?  
  
"What kind of place is this?" Jongdae wondered out loud. He already knew it wasn't going to warrant him an answer, but he still figured it was worth a shot. "What country are we even in?"  
  
He had never seen such a landscape. Or, better said, he had never seen so many different types of landscapes in the same location before. They'd been driving on a straight path of asphalt for ages now, surrounded by nothing but grass. The longer their journey went on, however, the more types of nature they encountered. He'd seen forests, mountains and waterfalls with enormous lakes, all connected to each other without any sort of natural transition. Almost like a poorly constructed collage, so to speak.  
  
The boy next to him didn't move an inch, his eyes not having been opened for even a second during their journey. It was only much later, when night-time came and all the light around them disappeared, that Baekhyun finally opened his eyes.  
  
Jongdae was about to finally introduce himself and break the agonisingly uncomfortable silence, but the beginning of his introduction was then abruptly cut off. "We're here." The car stopped, confirming the driver's statement. "Please get out of the car and wait for further instruction"  
  
Baekhyun seemingly didn't feel the desire to listen to Jongdae's words and quickly got out, not even throwing him a glance. Jongdae therefore followed suit, though he hadn't given up on trying to make a connection with this alleged criminal yet. His expression, especially while asleep, had looked gentle and inviting, so Jongdae had trouble believing his personality would be excessively contradictory.  
  
The driver's companion got their luggage out of the trunk of the car and put it beside them with a harsh thud. Then, without another word or acknowledgement, the man got back in and the car drove off.  
  
"Let's go." These were the first words Jongdae had hears coming from Baekhyun's mouth. His voice was raspy, as if he was recovering from a week's worth of screaming. Perhaps he was. "We can't stay here."  
  
Jongdae couldn't help but wonder when they had become a 'we'.  
  
"Where to?!" Jongdae almost chuckled in surprise. Everything was completely dark now, save from the lights that illuminated a path in the far distance. It seemed like the only reasonable location to move towards if they didn't want to risk walking into something far more dangerous. Who knew what was out there for them? "Look, I don't know what you did or what you're trying to escape from, but something tells me we're not in the same boat here."  
  
Baekhyun's shoulders slumped and he groaned audibly, before he thew his hands up in the air and finally took a hold of his bag. Jongdae heard the other boy's audible breathing, and concluded he was scared, which seemed to get just a little worse when Jongdae finally took a hold of his wrist to keep him where he was.  
  
"I'm Jongdae," he said, mainly to stop Baekhyun from acting on his fearful impulses. "Let's at least stay here and wait for someone else before we decide to run away. Okay?"  
  
The other nodded, balling his hand into a fist to get himself under control. Jongdae, for just a second, felt slightly victorious.  
  
But then, before he realised it himself, he clenched Baekhyun's wrist in his fist and let out a loud gasp. He felt a hand on his shoulder, after which he charged forward and pulled Baekhyun with him, letting go of his previous thoughts and more than willing to make a run for it.  
  
"Hey! Hey, stop. Stop, don't worry. I'm sorry I scared you. Don't run!" It was lucky that this voice didn't sound threatening at all, otherwise Jongdae would already be halfway across the field. Instead, he stopped in his tracks, despite Baekhyun's struggle to keep going -- luckily he was stronger than the other boy -- and dared to turn around. "God, I told them it wouldn't be smart to have you arrive in the middle of the night. I can't see a thing!"  
  
Now with his eyes fully adjusted to the dark, Jongdae spotted the figure of a boy that couldn't be much older than he was himself. The threat then disappeared, but the confusion settled in further. Was this the person they were meant to get their instructions from? It seemed unlikely, but perhaps everything about this situation seemed a bit unlikely.  
  
"Where are we?" Baekhyun sputtered. He'd grabbed a hold of Jongdae's arm, fingers digging firmly into his skin. Despite the fact they hardly knew each other, Jongdae had clearly become Baekhyun's only form of safety. "Why are we here? What kind of... What kind of prison is..?"  
  
"Prison? They told you you were going to be taken to prison?" Baekhyun didn't say anything in response, but waited for more to follow instead.  
  
"They didn't tell us anything," Jongdae said instead. Whatever it was that he was thinking about this place, it was starting to feel less and less like a military base.  
  
"Right. Of course." The boy nodded in thought, the whole ordeal suddenly making sense to him again. Something about this guy seemed off. Like he was trying to take the lead but didn't quite know how. The way he was just standing there, letting both Baekhyun and him hang there in awkward silence, proved as much. "Let's not make this more uncomfortable than it needs to be, then. My name is Junmyeon."  
  
"Jongdae. And this is Baekhyun. Or so I've heard" Baekhyun's eyes shot over to Jongdae, but Jongdae only threw him a quick smile. "And I think I speak for the both of us if I say that we really want to know where we are."

  
  
Yixing was up and awake at an ungodly hour. It wasn't his style to be up past midnight -- it hadn't been for years. He needed his energy during the day, perhaps even more so than any of his brothers did. For them, it didn't exactly matter whether they had their energy during the day or during the night, or at all, really, but for Yixing it did. He was needed in ways they weren't, which usually had him bed bound to retain the majority of his energy. Just in case something happened, which it eventually always would, but especially for those highlighted days in his diary. Junmyeon had written them down for him, taken straight from the book.  
  
From the beginning, Yixing had hated that book. They'd made it sound like some sort of Bible, and to Yixing it had made no sense to suddenly start believing in a religion he had never heard of before. He had behaved defiantly towards it, and broken the few rules it described. He hadn't rested as much as he'd needed to and instead spent his time with his brothers, playing. They'd been young, after all, and they'd needed the bonding time. How else could they have expected this all to work out?  
  
But then, after his very first near-fatal mistake -- the one that had Chanyeol's whole body covered in burn scars; ones that Yixing hadn't had the energy to heal in time -- and after having been scolded for it not only by Junmyeon, but also by the faceless officials they would only hear from every once in a while, Yixing had given in. He'd picked it up, he'd sat down, and he'd started reading, even if only to find out that this book was... Everything.  
  
Everything that had ever happened and everything that still would.  
  
Yixing's entire experience inside of their underground mansion, including his defiance and his lack of understanding, had been described as inevitable. Chanyeol's suffering had been caused by one of Yixing's character flaws, which the book had described would only be fixed 'the hard way'. It had. The guilt had led him to never going against any of what the book wanted him to do again. No matter the fact that he had no fucking clue how something like this could ever have come to existence. It had been right about everything, so how could he continue to doubt it?  
  
The book had made life feel like more of a chore than before. He'd learnt that his role was essential, his healing powers being the sole reason that his brothers could heal and learn from the mistakes they'd make with their own powers. Without Yixing, they would always be that little bit too careful and never reach their full potential, and he knew that couldn't happen. He wasn't sure why not, as he wasn't allowed to read the book anywhere past the day they were currently on, but he believed it. He believed this book unconditionally.  
  
But he didn't know about the future. He knew what days to pay special attention to, and the days it was essential to rest a little more, but nothing beyond that. Junmyeon had explained that knowing the future could mess with the outcomes, and that even he didn't know what the future held for them. He couldn't deny that it made the situation a whole lot more terrifying, but he understood it.  
  
It was important he did as he was told now, so he would.  
  
Right now, that meant waiting down in his room, two chairs opposite him and some tea brewing from his makeshift kitchenette (no more than a side table with an electric kettle on top of it) that he'd put there some years ago now. Just like the others, Yixing was awaiting the arrival of their two new brothers. They'd come to his room any minute now.  
  
Any minute now. He checked his watch. Any minute now.  
  
A knock on his door had him sit up straight and clear his throat. "Come in," he said, just loud enough for those behind it to hear it. The door opened quickly, and in walked two boys. Junmyeon waited in the door opening, hand resting on the door handle.  
  
"Yixing will show you your room later, but, uhm, if you have any more questions for me you know where mine is. Right?"  
  
One of the guys nodded with a polite smile on his face, while the other shrugged, seemingly confused. Yixing wasn't sure how -- he never was -- but he instantly knew the circumstances under which both boys and been sent here. The guy on the right, Jongdae, barely knew anything, while the one on the left, Baekhyun, knew too much. He was a bit like Sehun, when he'd first arrived, though with stronger defences while being more paranoid than scared. The other could be compared to someone like Minseok, who'd perhaps not been entirely clueless, but had chosen not to take the truth for the truth and believe a lie instead. Yixing didn't think this boy was going to be as difficult to deal with, though. He seemed more accepting than any of his other brothers had seemed.  
  
"Did he make anything a bit more clear?" Yixing asked. There was a smile on his face, and the tone in his voice was gentle. That was particularly important for now, especially now that Junmyeon was out of sight.  
  
"Not really," Jongdae admitted. "All he did was show us around and tell us about when he came here. He says he's some sort of leader, but is that true? I wonder if it is."  
  
Jongdae was behaving defiantly, but only just a little. Yixing easily wrote it off as exhaustion. "It is true," Yixing easily said, but it was hard not to feel amused. Junmyeon could be clumsy and uncomfortable, and leave out many details that were important. "I suppose he just prefers it if I do the hard parts. I'm Yixing; a healer, if you will."  
  
At those words, Baekhyun's eyes finally short towards him. Jongdae's, on the other hand, looked twice as confused. "Like a doctor?"  
  
"Something like it."  
  
"My parents must have lost their minds thinking a place like this would teach me about taking responsibility," Jongdae snapped. Yixing knew -- just knew -- that Jongdae was normally a whole lot more friendly, but the exhaustion was making him feel frustrated. "This shit makes no sense. It's ridiculous."  
  
"It's a really long story, so I think I can give the both of you a choice here," Yixing offered, ignoring the snappy remarks for now. "We can wait with all of this until the morning, until after breakfast, or we get right to it now."  
  
Jongdae seemed conflicted. Baekhyun, on the other hand, not so much.  
  
"Right now." It was the first thing that'd come out of Baekhyun's mouth. He eyed Jongdae for a split second, who seemed overall frustrated and unsure of what to do. "I can't go to sleep without knowing what I'm here for."  
  
Yixing nodded at him. His response was resolute, not to be bargained with. So Yixing didn't. "You seem tired," his eyes were on Jongdae now. He smiled gently. "I think it might be better if I speak to you in private, so would you be able to rest without knowing what you can expect here yet? It seems like Baekhyun needs my help just a little more than you do."  
  
Jongdae huffed quietly, but eventually nodded. Yixing's assumption had been right then: the boy truly would do anything to seem stronger than those around him. Besides, he seemed exhausted; something Yixing wouldn't be able to heal. It was for the best he'd fix this naturally, so that they could actually get anywhere tomorrow.  
  
But Baekhyun needed more. Yixing had been seen that from the beginning. Now that Yixing had heard his voice, he'd began to feel it too. There was something in there that needed his immediate attention, because more so than annoyed, Baekhyun was scared. Scared of where he was, but even more scared of what he'd done.  
  
What had he done?  
  
"Take a seat," he told Baekhyun before he stepped into the direction of the door. "Make yourself comfortable because this is going to take some time."  
  
His eyes shot over to Jongdae, whose eyes were now more tired than confused or frustrated. He seemed willing to follow him out, and then even more willing to finally get to sleep. That was a good thing, Yixing decided, because it would mean that the other boy would be accepting of whatever would come to him.  
  
Even more so, it meant that -- fortunately -- Jongdae hadn't suffered as tragic of a fate as as Baekhyun had had. 


	2. Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Explicit Adult Content, Angst

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This might be a bit of a confusing next chapter, but hopefully this will all make sense a little later on :D It's been a while since I last updated this, but I am going for it now! 
> 
> I hope.......
> 
> lol
> 
> This story is going to include some original characters, but the majority of it is going to be about the twelve of them. Chapter 3 is not going to contain any OCs.

_5 years later_

Le Fourvière looked out over an unknown city. Up here, the streets of Lyon looked almost safe, unable to get to him. Not that he _actually_ believed that they could, but it often felt that way when he was down there. He didn't know those streets, after all, and yet they were the only streets he could still remember. Though in the back of his mind, and the darkest crevices of his memory, he could feel the presence of streets that felt much more claustrophobic than these would ever do. This city was quiet. Almost too quiet, but still it was the only one he could remember ever having lived in.

It wasn't so much that he hated this city, because he didn't. Not when he _really_ thought about it, at least. It was undeniably beautiful here, especially now with the sun illuminating the mountainous landscape ahead of him. It felt peaceful to stare ahead in an attempt to clear his mind. There were no noises to get distracted by, or any people walking on on him that wanted to know something about their surroundings. He looked different enough from the people around him, he assumed, to pass for a tourist. 

No, it wasn't Lyon that was the problem; it was his memory. Or rather... The lack thereof. 

"Thinking too much again?" A familiar voice crept up from behind him. The frame of the man it belonged to pressed against his back, while his arms wrapped themselves around his middle. "Hm? Is Baekhyunie thinking too much again?"

He didn't mind the teasing. In fact, it was nice enough of a distraction to get him off his train of thought for a moment. It'd come back later anyway, but right now he was content pressing his ass back into the crotch of the man that had made this place a little more bearable over the past couple of months. As he did this, he leaned over the stonewall that separated Place de Fourvière from the rest of the city and looked down at the small streets that looked like veins from where they were standing. 

With the man pressed up behind him, the city looked almost romantic. 

"It's not like I've had anything better to do," Baekhyun responded. His voice sounded somewhat snarky, but that was exactly his intention. 

He'd been bored here all day, after all, just waiting for Minsu to finish his shift. He didn't have to do that, he knew, but it was by far the more pleasant alternative to having to spend his day all by himself in Minsu's apartment. There, his mind really had ended up going crazy, especially because he was stuck here trying to retrieve his memory when he already knew he was going to need something far bigger to trigger it to come back to him. It wouldn't come to him between the four walls of Minsu's apartment, and it wouldn't come back to him here. But at least, he supposed, he had a good view here. 

"Well," Minsu spoke, quite closely to his ear, "I could think of something better you could have done with your time. The book's right there, in your bag." He pressed his nose into Baekhyun's hair, his lips planting a kiss into his hair. "But I suppose I won't bother you with that too much today." 

Sometime before Baekhyun had been forced to spend his days here on his own as he waited for Minsu to be done, Minsu had managed to arrange a job for him at the restaurant he worked at himself. It hadn't been much, just a cleaning job, but it hadn't lasted long. Just a few weeks -- maybe a few months -- after he'd started, the manager had instructed Minsu to tell Baekhyun that it wasn't going to work out. The reason for that, of course, was the fact that he couldn't understand even a word of the quick French rambling that was being said to him. That made it impossible to properly follow instructions, and if he had to go to Minsu all day to get an adequate translation, he was keeping Minsu -- one of their busiest chefs -- off his work. So, logically, Baekhyun had to go. He'd never really held that against them. 

"I was hoping you wouldn't," Baekhyun complained, at the same time he pushed his hips a little further back into Minsu's crotch. "Was hoping you had planned something a little more exciting than a fucking French class." 

Minsu chuckled and didn't say anything more of it, even though Baekhyun knew that he wanted to. The man had never really made it a secret that he wanted Baekhyun to pick up the language, but it had never been to any avail. Baekhyun wasn't quite sure what it was, but the thought alone made him feel uneasy. He felt like it made sense not to understand any of what was being said around him and that learning it would be like giving in to the idea that he'd be stuck here forever, when he didn't want to be. It didn't feel natural, still. It didn't make any sense that he'd just woken up here one day, with no recollection of how he had ever ended up there, while the only language he remembered was Korean. 

The fact that he had no idea what Korea was like hadn't changed his mind. He still knew he had to go back there someday. 

"Yeah, don't worry," Minsu mused as he stood back up straight. He pulled Baekhyun with him and then used his strength to turn him around so he could look down into his eyes. Finally, Baekhyun could feel himself melt into the touch. "I wouldn't let this day go by without doing at least _something_ special for you, _mon cheri_." 

Although the words were somewhat mocking, this type of language did freak him out at times. However, Baekhyun also couldn't deny that there was something arousing about it. 

"Let me guess... Expensive dinner?" Baekhyun questioned, throwing a look into the other's direction. He laughed mischievously, because it wouldn't be the first time for the Minsu to spend half a fortune on good food for the both of them to share. Baekhyun had never cared for it, but he couldn't deny that he was starving. "Expensive, satisfying dinner, after which you will take me to the bedroom and not let me breathe properly for the remainder of the night?" 

Again, Minsu chuckled. He made it look like he was thinking for a short moment, but then he simply nodded. His hands moved up to Baekhyun's cheeks and he smiled one of the warmest smiles that Baekhyun had ever seen. He leaned in then, and pressed his lips to Baekhyun's in a way that had Baekhyun instantly step forward. 

Normally he'd have felt a shot of panic. Something about kissing someone -- _a man_ \-- in public had the hairs on the back of his neck stand up straight. It didn't matter that no one gave them shit for it here, because it still felt like that might happen any moment, like he was somehow used to a place where this wasn't as accepted as it was here. All it would take was one bad person, just _one_ person to have a problem with this, for all of it to be over. 

Now, however, felt different. Right now he was mesmerised by what was happening with the man opposite him. His lips were tingling and the world around him simply disappeared. His heart fluttered and then started beating so fast that he had no choice but to reach for Minsu's middle in order to wrap his arms around him. If he would simply keep standing there, it felt like he might lose his balance altogether. 

"Just like we did a year ago, baby," Minsu muttered. He finished his words with an agonisingly sexy wink that had Baekhyun forget where he was for a moment. "Exactly a year ago." 

Normally -- or as far as he could remember -- words like this would have made him cringe, but right now they did something else to him. They made him feel safe, in the midst of this confusing mess, and therefore he had no problem giving into it for now. Besides, today was a special day, no matter how he, in one respect, would easily classify it as one of the worst day's he'd ever experienced. 

It had been right about here, right down the steps of La Basilique Notre Dame de Fourvière (yes, France was almost as pretentious as it sounded). He could still see the face of the elderly lady that had hung above him when he'd woken up, asking him questions he couldn't understand nor answer. It wouldn't stop and the longer he kept quiet, the more panicked those questions had began to sound. 

He realised the woman was probably asking about who he was, or whether he was okay. He hadn't known. He, and he'd realised this as his heart started thumping about a thousand beats too fast, didn't remember a single thing. Nothing about what he had done before he'd woken up here, nothing about the place he was from. Nothing. Apart from his name and his language, although he couldn't immediately remember what that language was called either. 

While he'd laid there gasping, trying his best to get up on his feet, the lady began to understand that Baekhyun hadn't been able to understand as much as a word of what she'd said to him. She did, however, realise that Baekhyun had been trying his best to get as far away from her as he could possibly muster. He'd wanted to get back to where things were normal again, to where he could understand what was happening to him and what had happened before. He couldn't stay. Hecouldn't stay. 

His body had felt weak, barely able to stand, so when he finally did get up on his feet, he couldn't do much more than stumble in the first direction he'd put his eyes on. He couldn't understand what was going on, or where he was going, but he could recognise the building next to him to be a closed down church. For some reason, that made everything even worse, because this would never have been a place he'd have brought himself to. He knew that much. 

The lady hadn't followed him, but it was clear that she had kept an eye on him. Not much later, she began shouting, probably for some help, just as Baekhyun ran into the brick wall that separated le Fourvière from the rest of the city -- the very same one he was standing against right now. 

"Already a year," he said, feeling an uncomfortable wave of nausea course through his system. "That's a long time, isn't it?" 

"Doesn't feel that long, though, does it?" 

But it did. The past year had felt like an eternity. He'd felt locked up inside his own mind for the majority of his days, where he could do nothing but think -- and try to remember -- or patiently wait for Minsu to return from work. He could easily understand why it may have felt like a short time for Minsu, however, because it was fairly obvious that the two of them lived like two different sides of the same relationship. They shared something, and that something was good, and that something was a safety net, but to Minsu it was not the net that would catch him when he finally fell from the brick wall and collided with the city streets. Minsu would never be on that wall in the first place. He'd be down there, with his arms wide open, patiently waiting to catch Baekhyun to break his fall. 

Instead of answering, Baekhyun simply smiled and leaned in for another kiss, forgetting the fear of being caught by the wrong life.

The first time he'd seen this man was roughly an hour after the woman had started shouting for help. Baekhyun had taken a look at a city he didn't recognise and then he'd fallen down again and pressed his palms to his eyes in order to make everything disappear again. How had he ended up here? He couldn't stop asking himself that question, until he'd realised that there was no way he was going to be able to retrieve that memory. Then he felt weaker, and twice as scared, until he'd screaming himself as if to wake up from a nightmare, but that never happened. He still hadn't woken up, even a year later. 

Then Minsu, half dressed in his uniform, half ready to go home, had appeared alongside the woman from before. Baekhyun hadn't even realised how painfully ignorant it had been to ask the very first Asian person for help, before knowing what language Baekhyun even spoke, because in this instance her assumption had been correct. Still, there was no point in blaming her. If anything, he should be thankful. Without her, there might not have been any guarantee that Baekhyun wouldn't have just ended up somewhere on the streets, waiting in the cold until all of this would simply be over. Without her, there might never have been a Minsu. The thought alone was almost unbearable. 

"Something tells me you want to skip the dinner and go straight for... you know." Minsu spoke the words against his lips and Baekhyun had barely noticed just how much he'd been trying to suck him up, but now he did and it caused him chuckle. 

"I'm not going to lie," he answered, teeth softly digging into his bottom lip, "it's even more tempting now you said it out loud." 

Minsu's hands were on his hips and he pushed him away, forcing their lips to disconnect and for Baekhyun to silently whine. 

"Not going to happen," the older man -- at least, that's what they'd decided on, as Baekhyun had no recollection of how old he was -- grinned, as he grabbed a hold of Baekhyun's wrist in order to deflect the hand that was coming for his crotch. "I'll make you feel special in another way first, so stop trying to convince me and let me convince you instead." 

A part of Baekhyun almost hated that this was true, but it was. As much as Baekhyun didn't _want_ to be made to feel special, Minsu always managed to do just that. If he wouldn't do it by giving him gifts, he'd be doing it by looking at him in a certain way, or by touching him -- his hands, cheeks, hips, shoulders, wrists -- with his unexpectedly magical and tender fingers. Baekhyun would feel warm and the fluttering sensation in his stomach would drive him half mad with desire. Not just for sex, but just... to be held. 

It was strange, he realised, because from what little memory of his past life that he had left, Baekhyun knew that he hadn't been this type of person before. Not one for relationships. Not one to commit to someone else. Minsu had either managed to completely change that part of his personality, or Baekhyun's lack of choice about the life he was living now had managed to make him accept it. He didn't know the answer, but it didn't matter either way. He was here now and he felt nice. 

"You don't really need to convince me," Baekhyun replied, "I believe you. Just don't start with the French and we're good. The only French I like is--" 

Minsu's lips pressed against Baekhyun's again, his tongue dipping out to flick at his own, but then he let go of him again. He understood exactly what Baekhyun had wanted to say. "You better be careful, or I might tease you to death." Minsu's hand grabbed a hold of his and his expression was amused, yet determined. "And you know I'm going to make you wait even longer when you get desperate and cute like that." Oh, _why_ did that have to be Minsu's favourite look on Baekhyun? 

Without giving Baekhyun another glance, Minsu began to walk and pulled Baekhyun with him, their fingers intertwined. Baekhyun wanted to whine, but instead he felt calm. Horny, maybe, but he no longer wanted the evening to speed up. Minsu was taking the lead and wasn't that all Baekhyun really wanted from him anyway? If Minsu wanted him desperate, Baekhyun would be desperate. If he wanted him patient, then he would try. 

If Baekhyun had been robbed of everything he had once been, then he would gladly give the remaining part of himself away to the taller man beside him. He deserved it. Not only for all he had done for Baekhyun in the last year -- _exactly one year_ \-- but also for the type of person he was. Good, pure, safe. If Minsu wanted someone like Baekhyun, then he deserved to have him. 

But two could play the same game. Minsu might have wanted Baekhyun to be patient -- and he _had_ tried -- but Baekhyun wanted Minsu to lose it. So, in the midst of their painfully romantic dinner, Baekhyun had raised his feet up and put it in between Minsu's legs. Minsu pretended not to notice it at first, hoping that if he didn't do anything, Baekhyun would eventually stop doing it altogether, but once Baekhyun's toes started to wiggle against his crotch, Minsu nearly choked on his food. Better yet, the sensation caused him to lean forward and throw Baekhyun somewhat of a dangerous glare. Completely different to all the gentle expressions Minsu had thrown him all evening, but no less him. In fact, he'd seen this side of him plenty of times before, and it might just have been the reason all this lovey-dovey stuff remained so stable between the two of them. 

It was all so perfectly balanced. 

To Baekhyun's surprise, Minsu didn't grab a hold of Baekhyun's ankle and he also didn't stop what he was doing. Almost like it was too good to cut short, like he wanted to come right then and there. Baekhyun almost laughed. "Food that good?" He asked with the innocent eyes of a puppy-dog. "Mine's not bad either. Would you like to try it?" 

Minsu inhaled in an attempt to fill his lungs enough to speak, but then Baekhyun pushed his foot up further. It was enough for him to notice the bulge growing harder against his touch. "God..." Minsu shook his head, then almost laughed, until he eyed Baekhyun's plate. "Why do you eat so slowly?" 

"Come on," he hummed, "you know why. I want the night to last longer. It's so lovely here. Hyung, isn't it _so, so, sooo_ lovely here?" He couldn't keep the smirk from spreading out over his face. 

"Yeah, yeah," he almost groaned, eyes shooting back towards his own, nearly finished plate of food. "But would you like some help?" 

"Help? With what? Eating the _delicious_ meal my boyfriend of one year so kindly gifted me? No way! Get your own boyfriend to give you things."

"I will... get my boyfriend to _give_ me things. Later." 

Those words, along with the dangerous glare in Minsu's eyes, caused a shiver to shoot down his spine and for heat to run up towards his face. He was almost certain his ears had turned bright red, but luckily that'd only make him seem cuter. Another look that Minsu liked, and therefore another thing that Baekhyun wouldn't keep from him. 

"I suppose I can share, if you share as well." His voice sounded no less innocent. "Might be nice, hm? To share?" 

He used his fork and spoon to twist a few strings of spaghetti -- deliciously prepared in a white truffle sauce -- into a ball that he could move in the direction of Minsu's mouth. There was something intimate about this, he thought, especially if you ignored the fact that he had his foot pressed up against his actual dick. Minsu seemed to agree, because he gladly accepted the bite, despite the physical torment he was going through at the same time. 

"Delicious," Minsu said, but his voice sounded almost flat. He clearly needed all his energy to make sure he wouldn't bust right there and there, which only managed to amuse Baekhyun more. "Can I get another bite?" 

"Good, right?" With the same technique, Baekhyun prepared the other another bite. He'd moved on from cute, and now his mannerisms were simply normal. Like he didn't feel hot all over himself. Like nothing was going on at all. "This place is amazing. I wonder what they've got for dessert. I could do with some ice cream." 

Minsu's eyes shot up at him and he stopped chewing for a second, until he quickly swallowed all of it down. "Are you serious?" He asked. Baekhyun could barely keep his suppressed laughter from coming out. 

"Maybe. Unless you've got something better for me? A popsicle, perhaps?" His foot prodded against the man's crotch again. He could feel how he had grown fully hard, which only excited him further. "Hm, not quite as cold as a popsicle. Seems more like a hot dog to me. Have never seen _that_ on the dessert menu." 

Minsu just looked at him without replying, but Baekhyun could see the look in his eyes grow darker. That was usually one of the first indications that he was about to lose his temper and Baekhyun _knew_ what it meant for Minsu to lose his temper. It caused a thrill of excitement run through his body. What a shame they were still seated here and what a shame it'd take a long while for them to finally arrive home. 

"I think it's for the best you open yourself up to the idea of having that for dessert. Give me your fork." 

Baekhyun, as obedient as he was, instantly complied. 

The man sped up the process, clearing Baekhyun's plate in a matter of minutes. Baekhyun kept quiet, just watching him as he was about to lose himself to his own desires. Before Baekhyun, or at least that was what Minsu had told him, Minsu had never been as driven by sex as Baekhyun had been. Had it not been for Baekhyun, it might have taken them weeks to finally give into it for the first time. His presence and neediness seemed to have awakened something within him, because now it would often be Minsu to take a firm hold of him and push him into the correct position. Not that Baekhyun complained. If anything, it excited him endlessly to have been able to cause something like this. Meant he was capable of a lot. Or, of course, that Minsu loved him. 

He felt warm then. His hand moved to cover his mouth to hide the majority of the smile he wasn't able to keep in. He realised, like never before, that he loved this man too. Just as much. If not more. Perhaps he'd finally dare to ask him for his help. To travel to Korea with him. To help him remember. Because, even if Baekhyun would remember where he had come from, or how he had ended up here, he knew that he would want to keep Minsu around to discover it with him. 

He never wanted to be without him again and he realised, in that moment, that having ended up here with his brain half scattered, might have been the best thing to have ever happened to him.

Minsu was a dominant man, which suited his physique very well. He was broad, and tall, and strong, which made it easy for him to grab a hold of Baekhyun and throw him in whatever direction he pleased. Baekhyun's only complaint about that, in the very beginning, is that he'd desperately wanted for Minsu _not_ to hold back. He wanted all of him, as rough as he could give it, which had left him -- in many occasions -- gasping for air on the floor, or over the kitchen table, or the sofa, or... wherever, really. 

Tonight, however, was a mixture of many things. 

On one hand, there were rough touches and the desperate tugging at his clothes until they were completely off, but on another there were the soft and gentle kisses, and the tender fingers that traced many trails over his bare skin. There was the desperate breathing, and the pushing and pulling, but there was also the loving and gentle expressions, and the hand that pressed against his forehead, brushing his hair out of his face. There was lust, and then there was love. Arousal, and the mad fluttering that had Baekhyun lose his mind completely. He was in heaven. Never been happier. 

He was on his back on Minsu's bed, pinned down by the wrists with the strength of Minsu's powerful hands. He'd tried his best to fight back for a while, liking the struggle and the feeling of the other's strength that'd always prevent him from being able to escape, but of course it had been to no avail. Minsu was -- especially tonight -- dead set on never letting him leave again. 

They were close tonight. So close that Baekhyun had felt the other's cock brush up against his skin on many occasions. He'd felt his own touch Minsu's stomach just as much, but for some reason that didn't drive him half as mad. He'd wanted him. He'd wanted to finish him off with his mouth, but one joke too many about 'starving for ice cream' had managed to make Minsu lose his temper and had him pressed with his back against the mattress. The room felt so light, and his skin felt so warm, even though he was tortured half to death with desire, while Minsu wasn't actually giving him anything yet. 

"You've been a bit of a bad boy tonight, Baekie." It wasn't often that Minsu would resort to putting up a role for him, so Baekhyun was absolutely revelling in it now that he was. "And what don't bad boys get?" 

He gasped, then pushed his hips up into the other man. He squirmed for more, but Minsu only lifted himself up in order to deprive Baekhyun of it. 

"What don't they get?" He repeated, set on causing the humiliation that having to answer that question would result in. 

"To play -- God. They don't get to play." Baekhyun wasn't ashamed. Not really. Just horny. Really, _fucking_ horny. "But isn't it a very special day? I think you can make an exception for me. Right? Just tonight? Please?" 

Minsu wore a grin, spread out over his handsome face. Baekhyun shivered in response, which only intensified the longing. The other _had_ to stop and give in, but something told Baekhyun that he would make him pay for the torture he'd caused him back in the restaurant. He guessed that was only fair, even though this was starting to feel like absolute agony. 

"That was pretty," he said, face nearing Baekhyun's. 

"What was?" 

"When you asked politely. That looked really, really good on you. Haven't seen that often enough." 

Baekhyun whimpered in protest, but understood the hint all too well. To get what he wanted, he knew what to do. "Please, hyung. Please let me play. No, no, better. Please play with me. Would that make it better? If I let you play with me instead? Please...?" 

"Wasn't it always going to be me playing with you?" 

He made his eyes bigger, the air that hit them making them water only slightly. On purpose, of course. "Don't you want to play with me then, hyung? I thought you liked playing with me." He tried his best to look as upset as he could muster, while he burned on the inside. 

"Oh God." 

"What's wro--" 

He didn't get the chance to finish his sentence, as Minsu's lips finally hit his again. Then, Baekhyun took the liberty to wrap his legs tightly around him and finally push himself fully against him. He could feel the man's cock against his skin again, which again made him fight desperately against Minsu's restraining touch. Now, Minsu let him, as he clearly had more important matters on his hands. So, Baekhyun's hands disappeared into Minsu's hair and he held him so tightly that there was no way he'd be able to move away again. 

He wanted so much more than he was able to explain, so he let his body do all of the work for him. He opened his mouth hungrily, and let his tongue be met by Minsu's, whose sought out for him just as hungrily as Baekhyun's had done. Then, he felt the man's finger pushing against his entrance, and his body immediately relaxed enough for it to give. He may have been filled with adrenaline, but he knew how to do this. It came to him like second nature, which had often made him wonder what he'd gotten up to in the life he couldn't remember. Probably a lot of this, because his first time with Minsu hadn't felt like a first time at all. It'd simply felt like... coming back to himself; to who he was; who he'd been.

Minsu slipped inside of him. Fingers first, to test him, but not long. Baekhyun had started whining against his lips to indicate that he quickly needed more, and Minsu was more than happy to comply this time around. The two of them weren't denying any of each other anymore now. 

When Minsu's cock pressed against him, and then finally entered him, Baekhyun stopped moving. His whole body tensed up in order to prolong the sensation, no matter the fact that it made it more difficult for Minsu to push forward. It didn't matter. He wanted to feel the pain of being filled; being ripped open; split apart, because this was... This was.

He gasped, his legs clenching more tightly around Minsu's waist, until Minsu began to thrust himself inside of him. Then he let go, kind of, even though that felt impossible at the same time.

He felt hot. He felt on fire. His senses were on sharper than they'd ever been and suddenly...

Had it not been for the burning sensation that Minsu was causing to well up within him, Baekhyun might have forgotten where he was altogether. The feeling was mind-numbing, and his eyes -- now wide open -- weren't registering what was above and against him. Instead, he saw a blinding light coming closer and closer the longer Minsu continued to thrust into him. There were no words to describe just how good it felt, the lack of vision barely causing any fear. This was good. He could feel that this was good. He was just losing his mind, slowly, while he had been desperate to cling onto his own sanity for the longest of time now. It was just that, surprisingly, he didn't care about losing it for Minsu.

His body was tingling all over, while Minsu's burned hot against his fingers. He could feel how his movements had accelerated, and how his breathing had therefore sped up. He was close, chest pressed against Baekhyun's, but Baekhyun couldn't see him anymore. He was everywhere, though nowhere in his vision. There was just light, reaching him and washing over him, while he felt better than he had done in a very, very long time. Was this what love felt like? Was it? It must be.

As his body was going through something intense, yet safe, so was his mind. The light cleared, making space for something he hadn't seen anywhere before. It looked familiar, like street signs, and sunlight shining upon mountains, hot and humid summers, in which he'd been lazy and tired, while his whole body had been washed over by something... incredible.

His eyes shot open further and suddenly he was met with a sensation he'd never felt quite as intensely as he was now. He moaned, his whole body arching up into Minsu's. He squirmed against him, feeling how his pounding had come to an abrupt halt. It always did, right before the climax, and Baekhyun had never suspected it would take him very long to finish tonight. The teasing would have made him too desperate to hold back, wouldn't it?

But no, he sped up again, almost as if he'd merely needed a moment to let the desire die down so he could go on longer. Baekhyun nearly screamed, his vision going blank once more. The light in his vision was overwhelming, he'd been staring up into the sun for too long. It reminded him of something he'd once seen before, but couldn't remember. Such overwhelming, blinding light, that consumed his whole body and made him do things he didn't know he was capable of. It felt good, so good, like a whole world of darkness suddenly fading out and replacing all his bad memories with good ones. He could only remember the good ones, because his body was under such an insane amount of pleasure that his mind didn't have the capacity to hold even the slightest smidgen of darkness inside of it anymore. Light. He saw light, and the both of them were consumed by it. Making them do things. Making _him_ do things he had no control over.

"You're so..." But that sentence was left unfinished, replaced by a loud, mind numbing gasp that had Baekhyun's mind reel.

Glass shattered. He screamed, a wave of pleasure washing all over him. He clenched around Minsu's cock and he felt himself losing it abruptly. His fingers dug into the man's skin and he clenched his jaw, until he screamed even louder, and then louder and then even louder.

More glass shattered. Outside, he could hear the noises of car alarms going off, one right after the other. The light pierced him now, and he gasped with pleasure.

No. Pain. He gasped with pain, his head splitting in half.

"Baekhyun..."

He screamed harder, his orgasm seemingly long in the past. He could still feel it running through his body, but it was caught somewhere it could no longer reach him. The same light that had made all of this so pleasurable for him, was now torturing him, his body convulsing violently with the impact of something he couldn't recognise. What was happening? What in the world was happening?

"Baek--"

Something had happened. A year ago, maybe longer. Something had happened, but he'd forgotten it, because this very same light had infiltrated him. He'd felt all of this before, when he'd felt just as good as he just had done. What he'd forgotten was bad, because after darkness may come light, but it worked the opposite way as well. After light, to the extent he'd just felt it, came darkness. When the light became too much, too uncontrollable, it'd all die out. But how did he know any of this? He had no idea.

The lightbulb above them shattered. He could feel the shards of glass rain down on his naked body. Where was Minsu? He couldn't see him anymore. Had he ever seen him at all? He'd never felt him pull out, or had he? Where had he gone?

"What's going on? Baby, what's happening? Hey, hey... Shh. What's..." He sounded worried, but Baekhyun couldn't tell him not to worry because he had no idea where he was.

Energy. There was too much of it and everything around him was breaking. Outside, the streetlights were splitting apart. He could hear screaming, and then shouting. Audible confusion, because how could the world be breaking apart, all energy overpowered? There was too much of it, and Baekhyun couldn't contain it; couldn't keep it in. Somehow, it still felt like that was what was expected of him. He was causing this, wasn't he? Somehow, all this energy was coming from within him.

This was what it had felt like to forget, but worse, because he was afraid he would never be able to forget this again. It wasn't like it had been before, clearly, except he could now feel just how similar this had been. Hadn't he been happy then, too? Or nervous, rather, afraid? He'd felt something intense, because of something that had happened. Everything had been so dark, and Baekhyun's feelings had been so strong that all this _fucking_ energy had collected itself and exploded, until he'd been blinded by the light and his mind was split in half and he'd simply forgotten all about it.

What had happened? What had happened back then?

There was a hand on his shoulder. He screamed louder, fear hitting him where he didn't want to be hit. The sensation was terrifying, because he couldn't understand where it was coming from, and therefore he screamed louder than he already had. His fists were clenched, and the noises from outside grew louder and more overwhelming and the shouting continued, roaming through his head as though they were ghosts that taunted him and wouldn't stop. He couldn't contain it anymore, because the pain was unbearable. Too much. Way too much.

He couldn't hear the other man over his own voice. Not that his noises were very loud at all, but Baekhyun ought to have heard them. Especially as the grip on his shoulder became tighter and stiffer. He should have realised something was going terribly, terribly wrong. He didn't. He didn't realise anything, except for the flashing danger that pierced through his eyes and made him see things he shouldn't. Made him remember things he couldn't remember, but only in flashes; nothing coherent.

Why? Why?! He'd waited so long for even the slightest sign of clarity, but even now that he could practically _feel_ everything that had happened to him back then, he still couldn't see the reality of what it had been. It only made him more confused, desperate and -- worst of all -- _afraid_.

With another scream, his whole body started shaking. The grip around his shoulder was becoming tighter and tighter, stiffer and stiffer, but he barely noticed it. He could only notice himself wishing that it would stop, but it didn't. So he screamed louder, and trashed his limbs around even more, until he could hear the whole world -- everything around him -- breaking apart.

The world was splitting open and he could feel it. Energy was vibrating inside of him, collecting itself until it came to a high that could no longer be contained. It all started to pour out of him in that scream, and his head split open as much as the whole universe did.

Then the grip finally lost its strength and let go, coming to an abrupt halt with a loud, deafening bang. Louder than anything else had been. Louder than the sirens roaring outside, or the lightbulbs that had started breaking all around him. It also sounded closer, nearer his proximity, and was followed by the most deafening silence he had ever heard. 

His body, which had been tense before, now finally relaxed. What had been unbearable just moments ago, building and building until that agonising explosion had come, now slowly died down. His grip on the real world started returning, and the light in his vision faded as the room came back to him. He was out of breath, his body exhausted, but the whirlwind in his thoughts was calming. Like he was forgetting what had just happened, if anything had happened at all, but nothing like what forgetting had felt like back then. This had just been a blip. An inexplicable change in his thoughts. Nothing serious. He'd tell Minsu about that soon, as Baekhyun had undoubtedly worried him. 

His breath hitched and his eyes shot open. Adrenaline shot through his body and he forced himself to sit back up. He saw the room, could take everything in, but everything was dark now. The big lamp above the bed wasn't on anymore, the street lights were out. No light, and worst of all, no noise. 

He rubbed his eyes as if that would adjust them to the dark more quickly, but his body protested. Perhaps it was his pounding heart that left his body so confused it wouldn't co-operate, but he was starting to get desperate now. 

"Minsu?" 

No response.

He gasped, then grabbed for his chest in an attempt to calm the piercing agony. It shot through him like a dagger and suddenly he was twice as terrified as he had been. He didn't know what had happened, but he'd felt enough to know that he'd caused something inexplicably bad. The lamps had broken under the impact of his terror, but what else had broken? What else had he done? 

Where the fuck was Minsu? 

"MINSU!" 

Baekhyun's vision returned to him, and there Minsu was. Next to the bed, on the floor, naked and on his stomach. Baekhyun knew -- fucking _knew_ \-- that he wouldn't need to get closer to confirm what he already knew was the reality, but he did so anyway. He needed to stop this. This couldn't be happening. This _hadn't_ happened. 

But what hadn't happened? He didn't know. He didn't know. He didn't _fucking_ know!

With the little strength he possessed, Baekhyun moved himself to the floor. "Minsu," he said again. "Minsu, minsu, MINSU!" 

His body was still warm, which dared to come as a slight relief to Baekhyun. A shot of hope filled him, and thus he started to shake the lifeless frame through. He could still wake him up and explain what had happened. They could figure it out. Baekhyun could still ask him to come to Korea with him, to find out where he had come from, and how he'd been capable of the things he'd just done; the things that had _almost --_ but not quite, no, no, no, no, not quite -- killed him. 

"Wake up," Baekhyun said. His plea was quiet at first, but then he started to repeat it like a mantra, each a little louder than the last. He prodded his fingers into the man's skin, trying to nudge him back to consciousness, but nothing happened. "WAKE UP!" 

He didn't know how long he'd been doing this for, but he couldn't stop. He couldn't give in to what he already knew to be the reality, because he was wrong. This _hadn't_ happened, because it couldn't have. No explosion within himself, no matter how much agony it had caused, would be capable of causing something like this. It didn't make sense. It didn't make any _fucking_ sense. 

He screamed again, his hands clenching to fists. He smacked them down against Minsu's back, as if that would make the man grab a hold of his wrists again to restrain him and stop him. Would it? Please would it? 

But it wouldn't. Minsu remained as he was, unmoved, lifeless.

Dead. 

Baekhyun pushed himself away from him and looked at him from a distance, until that became just as unbearable. Then he got up from the floor and turned around, his palms pressing into his eyes. He took a deep breath, but then collapsed altogether. What had happened? What had he _done_? 

What could he do now, now that his only piece of safety had been torn away from him? The only person who'd been able to help him? fell to the floor and pressed his face into his knees, screaming into them like it was the only thing he could do. Well, it was. There was nothing left here for him. The only person who had been willing and -- more importantly -- _able_ to help him, Baekhyun had... had... 

_Killed_. 

Realisation hit him. He looked around him, eyes falling onto his clothes. 

He'd killed. The man he'd loved, he'd killed. He couldn't remember having done that, but he'd felt it. He'd caused this. 

He'd let all the lights around him go out. 

What other explanation was there? Not just to him, but to the outside world? He was here, alive, and Minsu wasn't. No one else had been with them, and he was naked. How could he explain this? Did he have the right to explain this? Did he have a right to _anything_ at all? 

No matter how unbearable it was, and no matter how incredibly hard he was crying, he moved himself to the pile of clothes that Minsu had discarded onto the floor just moments earlier. He tried not to think about it, or about anything for that matter, because he knew what to do. He knew there was only one thing he could do. 

He got dressed as he tried to ignore the lifeless body that lied on the floor. He tried not to feel what he was feeling, numbing himself to the agony that the reality held for him. He tried not to think about how much he wanted to ask Minsu for his advice, or how much he wanted to tell the man about how he couldn't do this on his own. He tried not to think about how much he wanted to beg for help, for a hug, a parting gift, because it wasn't going to happen. It'd been done. How?! No, didn't matter. Didn't matter how. Not now. Not yet. 

He looked out of the window, terrified the dark street was going to swallow him whole. 

Hadn't it been Minsu to assure him, time and time again, that wouldn't happen? Hadn't it been Minsu to remind him he was safe here in Lyon, even if he didn't remember how he had gotten here? That he'd protect him? 

But now he had to leave. Now he had to find the explanation and return. For Minsu, so he could show him that he was no longer terrified and give him all the answered he'd been seeking for all along. So he could be with him again, and so that he would never hurt him again. Never kill... Never kill him... 

No, no. Stop. Turn around. He had to forget. He could forget again. 

And leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to leave feedback, you can find me at @letsjustfckngo on twitter :D Comments and Kudos much appreciated too!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is taking me so long to write, but finally there's a third chapter! I really hope the fourth one won't take me nearly as long, though. Feels like I'm really starting to get into it now. 
> 
> Thanks to the people who have already read it, or those who just started! And, ya know, enjoy some Xiuhan!

"You're so fucking,  _ fucking _ cold."

Lu Han's teeth were chattering. Minseok could feel that his body was shivering beside his. His hands were still clinging around the skin of his shoulders, but it was clear he was having some trouble keeping them there.

Minseok tried everything in his power to keep himself from opening his eyes, and laughing wholeheartedly at the other's struggle. He'd long since stopped being ashamed of it – and it certainly beat freezing the whole room around him by accident. He could deal with his body temperature lowering to the extent that it was. It was just Lu Han who found it impossible to withstand it.

"This is ridiculous. This is fucked up. Why can't I just be fucking,  _ fucking, fucking Chanyeol?!" _

"He's not your type, baby," Minseok answered smugly, after which his eyes opened. Lu Han had been so stuck in his own world that he had barely noticed that Minseok had woken up. Now that he had, though, he tore his hands away from Minseok's skin, after which he aggressively began to blow into them.

"Fuck you," Lu Han responded. "That wasn't even what I was saying. I just–"

"He's not my type either."

"Well, I'm also not your type, remember? I'm…"

"Yeah, an exception. Of course." Minseok let him have it this time, because he wasn't going to fight Lu Han on the fact that he was kind of adorable, while Lu Han so desperately wanted to believe that he wasn't. It was too early for a fight like that, and Minseok really was really cold, and he'd much rather spend his time doing something to warm himself up.

"Anyway," Lu Han continued, while still desperately blowing into his hand. "What happened? Did you have a nightmare, or something? I–"

"No," Minseok said, while sitting up, "how many times do I have to tell you that this doesn't happen because of nightmares. That's just you.."

"... And Sehun," Lu Han defended himself. "Yifan said something about it too, once, and so did Tao, and, actually, I'm pretty sure Jongin woke up in the forest once because of a nightmare. Maybe you weren't there yet when that happened, though."

"Yeah, yeah," Minseok muttered, "I get your point. Not  _ just _ you. I'm the weird one."

"Exactly," he grinned. "You're the weird one."

Lu Han loved being told that he was right, even though Minseok was pretty sure that Yifan's stuff didn't stem from nightmares either, and that mentioning Tao was  _ always _ easy, because he was never around for long enough to really check whether Lu Han was making stuff up about him again. Minseok usually just let him have it, which he was pretty sure was partially because Lu Han had started to believe his own lies. Ploughing through all of that was going to take them more time that they had.

Maybe after all of this was over, Minseok thought. If it ever would be over, that was.

"I think we have to get up. The new ones must be here by now," Minseok said matter-of-factly. Junmyeon had said they'd be here for breakfast, which he was pretty sure he was smelling from the kitchen now. "Besides, that might give you the perfect opportunity to snuggle up to Chanyeol a little more."

"Again; Fuck. You."

Minseok just laughed, and wrapped a hand around Lu Han's wrist again when he made an attempt to get away. There was something fun about getting him all worked up. Especially because it felt so good to get him to calm down again.

Besides, Minseok needed to get warm, and these days there was only one way to really get that done.

He pulled Lu Han on top of himself, pulling at his thighs to get them to spread far enough to straddle Minseok between his legs. Then, one of his cold hands moved out to the back of Lu Han's neck. He watched him as he flinched, but didn't give him enough time to get himself to struggle away.

Then, when he pulled him down, their lips crashed together and everything between them felt familiar again. Especially as Lu Han's body slowly eased into it, hips slotting together as though they were two pieces of a broken plate. Everything felt like a cliche again, even if nothing about their situation was a cliche at all.

Lu Han still often denied that this was something they did at all. Even when Minseok couldn't even count on two hands just how often they'd been walked in on, this still wasn't something Lu Han wanted to talk about. In the kitchen, and all other communal spaces for that matter, Minseok was nothing but a roommate to Lu Han. In the bedroom, however, Minseok claimed him with his lips, and his hands, which slowly travelled down between his legs, because he wanted to feel what he'd caused there.

"Don't use your hand there!" Lu Han muttered, as he grabbed a firm, urgent hold of Minseok's wrist.

Oh. Yeah. Cold. Hm. That still got in the way sometimes.

"How's my mouth? Is that cold?"

Minseok liked it when Lu Han's eyes widened a little. Made him look like an excited little deer with big eyes who had just been promised a treat. Minseok, of course, would never tell him that and enjoyed it in silence as Lu Han tried to figure out how to respond.

When his lips curled up into a smirk, Minseok knew what to do.

He flipped them over with immaculate strength, knocking the air right out of the both of them. Then he hung above the other, looked him deeply in the eyes, and smirked before his cold hands began to work the buttons of his pyjama top. Lu Han flinched at the touch, but the promise of what Minseok was about to do next was enough to keep him down.

It usually took a while for his body to heat back up again, but he could already feel it was well on its way now. Especially as he leaned down slightly, and pressed his lips against the skin of Lu Han's neck. He moaned slightly, after which his hands curled around Minseok's upper body and his hands nestled their way into his hair. Warm. Amazingly nice and warm.

Minseok began to kiss his way down, fluttering a trail from his collarbone to his hip. He explored his skin like he usually did, taking his body heat and using it to warm himself back up again. Lu Han did that to him. Even though the boy underneath him was amazingly complicated, he made everything feel right again.

A knock on the door disturbed them. The hand in his hair let go and the gasp that had previously been hot and pleasured had now turned into one of shock, and a moment later he was using all the strength he had to get himself away from Minseok again.

Moment over. Complicated Lu Han, who always made everything feel so right, was doing everything to keep this not-so-secret secret from all the rest of them.

"Yes?" Minseok responded, when it had become clear that Lu Han wasn't going to do any of that sort.

"Hey, it's me," Junmyeon said. He didn't open the door. Probably because he knew perfectly well what kind of thing's he could risk walking in on. "Uh, can you come to the kitchen? The two – uh, Jongdae and Baekhyun – are still sleeping. I'm thinking Baekhyun won't join us yet this morning, but Jongdae hasn't spoken to Yixing yet and I'm pretty sure he still has no clue what this place is. So, like, I need you all to, well…"

"... Be on our best behaviour. Got it. Won't be a problem," Minseok muttered. He threw Lu Han a look, but he wasn't looking back at him. Not  _ yet _ , at least. "I just warmed back up, so that won't be a problem."

"Right. Great. Thanks. See you in a moment, then."

" _ Fuck. You."  _ Lu Han mouthed.

Minseok shrugged. "Not now. Maybe tonight."

Tao was sitting at the table. Not something that would have been weird last year, but now it kind of was. It had been a while since Yixing had last seen him, and at one point his visits had started to mean something important; something vital. However, it was not something that could just be asked about, and it seemed like the majority of them knew that too. Whatever it was that Tao did, it was certainly not something any of them could know about. At least, no one apart from Junmyeon, because that went without saying. Junmyeon had, as far as they all knew, set this whole thing up. Of course he knew about all of it. All of everything.

"How's Baekhyun?" Junmyeon asked. They were the only one's in the kitchen now, besides Tao, and although he felt tired, he knew that it wasn't time for sleep just yet. He had a long, long day ahead of him, though hopefully not one quite as complicated as yesterday night had been.

"He should still be sleeping. He's…" Yixing couldn't quite find the words for it.

"A little complicated, isn't he? I got that news too. Little, uhm, paranoid?"

"Well, yeah," Yixing said, jumping to his defence. "They did make him believe he was being sent to prison. After all that, I don't think we – or  _ they _ – have the right to blame him."

"No, right," Junmyeon responded. "I agree. It happened to his brother, right? Yeah…"

"He'll be okay," Tao interrupted, speaking knowingly. "He's not the only one shit like that happened to. Sehun's fine, isn't he? This new one will too."

"Sehun was really young, though," Yixing said again. "I don't think he was as aware of it as Baekhyun was, and… Well… they didn't make him believe he was sent to prison either."

Tao shrugged, doing nothing about his cold demeanour. Something told Yixing that he was tired of it, of everything, but he suspected it would take ages until he'd find out why. He’d tried to ask why, dozens of times, but the answer had never been satisfactory. Junmyeon would eventually always tell him to stop asking. He couldn’t talk about it. Yixing had to trust him, and believe him, when he told him that there were simply things that only Tao and he could know. 

There were some things, Yixing knew, that couldn't be discussed by anyone besides just Junmyeon and Tao, and no matter how often or how determinedly any of them would ask about it, they'd never get an answer. For their own sake, Junmyeon had said, and Tao? Well, he'd never quite said anything. Just shrugged it off angrily. Whatever it was, Yixing had a feeling he didn't want to be in his shoes. In either of their shoes.

"Do you think he'll warm up to us sometime soon?" Junmyeon asked him. "Things are starting to speed up. They will, I mean, and – as you know – we're going to need all of us."

Yixing breathed in deeply. Some days, he didn't even really think that any of them were ready for any sort of big thing. For one, Yifan still hadn't quite warmed up to any of them, and he had been one of the first to arrive after Junmyeon. Sehun still didn't know how to be alone, and now Baekhyun… Well, Yixing really wasn't sure how much time he was going to need. "I will do my best," was therefore all Yixing could really say, "but like I said, it won't be easy."

"Nothing really is," Tao added again, fed up with this conversation; fed up with everything, "we don't have time to gently coax him into anything. You need to make sure he knows that. Alright? Try anything you can."

Yixing nodded. If there was one thing he had learned over the past few years, it was that he needed to trust Tao to know what he was talking about. "At least the other one is going to be a whole lot easier."

"Jongdae," a voice spoke, appeared out of nowhere, after which a slightly unfamiliar body entered through the kitchen. Yixing let out a deep breath, wishing he hadn't slipped up so early on, "The other one. Jongdae."

"I'm sorry, of course," Yixing spoke, right after turning his chair in the other's direction. He needed sleep, but it was becoming clearer and clearer that there was some urgency to needing to speak with Jongdae now. "I didn't mean to make you sound irrelevant. That's not it, the contrary, actually."

Didn't that sound even weirder, however? Yixing wasn't so sure anymore, but on the little sleep that he had had, he wasn't quite sure of anything anymore. 

"The contrary?" Jongdae asked, eyebrow raised. There was some humour in him, which made the situation feel a whole lot terrible. "What's that supposed to mean, the contrary...?" 

"I think it's best for you to talk to him for a moment," Junmyeon interjected. "If you want, I can ask Kyungsoo to bring breakfast to your room?" 

Yixing eyed Tao for a moment, who threw him a blank expression back. It was fairly obvious that Jongdae was looking at him too, but Tao didn't seem to have the energy to look back at the newcomer. They probably wouldn't end up talking much regardless, even though that in itself had always been confusing to Yixing. How could they work together – make it  _ work _ together – when Tao refused to talk to any of them for longer than a couple of minutes at most? Yixing understood that Tao was tired, and that his vital role had made him feel almost defiant, but the chances of this working out were rather slim if he wasn't willing to work with them like the team they were supposed to be.

"We haven't met yet," Jongdae duly noted, to make matters even worse. 

Tao's expression, still directed at Yixing, grew somewhat pressing now. Yixing understood what that meant: Tao wanted to be saved – left alone.

"I think I do actually need to talk to you, before the others join us and put you through even more confusion," Yixing therefore said, while tiredly getting up from his chair. He might not understand why Tao behaved the way he was, but the last thing thing Yixing could afford was to force him through more mental strain. "Come. Let's do what Junmyeon said. Are you okay with that?" 

Jongdae nodded. The humour had disappeared from his features, leaving nothing but a deep frown. "It doesn't seem like I have another choice, do I?" 

Tao cast his eyes away, which did nothing besides simply proving the point Jongdae had just made.

Home – or at least the concept of home – was a foreign thing, or at least that was what Jongdae was coming to understand now. On one hand, he felt like the confusing reality of the situation was slowly but surely making him feel homesick. On the other, however, he suddenly felt like he was starting to forget what home was, or what it ever had been. After all, Jongdae had simply been sent here without any form of explanation, and Jongdae hadn't even questioned it. Wasn't there something wrong about that? Shouldn't there have been something within him, nagging at him for at least some form of clarity? 

Yixing had told Jongdae that, to him, this place was home. He had been here for so long that he could barely even remember ever having lived differently. He was no longer in touch with his family, as was no one inside of this mansion, but it didn't seem to matter to them anymore. Jongdae didn't know whether that was because they'd always had a poor relationship with their family, or whether it had simply developed itself that way. Had all those people simply forgotten about it, maybe? Jongdae couldn't imagine that he would one day forget about them himself, and he also couldn't say that he had a  _ bad _ relationship with his family either. The indifference between them wasn't  _ bad _ , really. It just was what it was, nothing noteworthy. 

Now, however, he was catching himself overthinking it. What did Jongdae have in common with all of these people? Why was he here? Why had his family just sent him off without explaining here he was going? And why, if they knew they might never see Jongdae again, had they seemed so cold and distant as they sent him off? 

"Do you know why you might be here, Jongdae?" Yixing had asked him. Jongdae had shaken his head, eyebrow raised up high. The whole thing had become weirder and weirder by the second. From having to share the car with a criminal, someone who – although he didn't look like it – may potentially have killed, to feeling more confused and alone than he ever had before. "Ah, that makes it a little more complicated." 

"What does that mean?" Jongdae had asked. He had so many questions, had yet it felt like none of them were being answered. "I don't know what's going on here, or what I'm doing here, but I'm starting to feel like I made a mistake by agreeing to this." 

Yixing had been quiet for a moment, but then he had smiled. Almost like he knew something he couldn't possibly explain to Jongdae. "We're glad that you did, though." 

Jongdae had noticed that he looked tired, likely worn out from the weird session he had had with Baekhyun – whatever that might mean. "So? Are you going to start explaining it?" 

Yixing had rubbed his eyes for a moment, while letting out somewhat of a shaky breath. "I wish I could show you, because this is going to be a little hard to explain. Worse,  _ I _ don't know why you're here; I just know why all the rest of us are. Or, well, most of us..." 

"Most of you?" Jongdae had wondered, "How many of you are there?" 

Now, with he and Baekhyun included, there were twelve of them, Yixing had explained, but that still hadn't told him anything he needed to know. It was good and well, knowing that everyone here seemed to get along like family, but Jongdae couldn't seem to get a full explanation of why – one day – he might just become part of that happy picture. "This doesn't make any sense," Jongdae had muttered, head buried in his hands. "Why did you take me here to explain me what's going on when you're not even going to tell me anything?" 

Yixing had shrugged, sighed once more until – resolutely – he'd come to a decision. "I think it's for the best if we waited for a good opportunity to show you, before confusing you with words that won't mean anything to you right now anyway." 

So Yixing had excused himself, stating multiple times that he was  _ genuinely _ sorry but that he really had to rest, and that had only contributed more to Jongdae's annoyance. Everyone here seemed to have secrets, secrets that they all wanted Jongdae to become a part of, but yet Jongdae wasn't being told about any of them. He was just expected to wait around until something would happen now, or sulk around in his freshly assigned bedroom, where Baekhyun was still sleeping – almost peacefully – in the bed next to his. 

With a heavy heart, Jongdae sighed. His phone was in his hand, the text window with his mother open.  _ What is this place?  _ He tried to ask, but the red circle with the exclamation point inside of it explained that the message would never send anyway.  _ WHAT IS THIS PLACE?! _

Maybe it was then that Jongdae realised that he wasn't going to gain anything by coming here, and that the concept of family, and even friendship, was further away from him than it had ever been before. 

He got up from his bed, letting his soft slippers slide towards the door over the expensive hard-wooden floor. If he wouldn't be told, then he was going to have to seek for answers himself. Without the help of Yixing and Junmyeon this time around. 

Sehun was sitting on the edge of a bed, feet steadily on the floor. The sheets were still warm, indicating that someone had sat on it not too long ago. That was a good thing, Sehun decided, because he'd already known that more than just one new person was going to be a little too much for him to handle at this point. After all, he often had trouble recognising what people's expressions really meant, especially when he didn't know them yet. He wanted to handle just one new person's smiles and frowns at a time, so he could slowly begin to learn how to tell them apart. That's how he had done it with all of them, after all, even though it had never been Sehun to put in all the effort before. That had to be a first. Maybe because he was older now, maybe because he just wanted to.

On the small table beside the bed, a plate of toast and scrambled egg was waiting, probably getting cold at that point. Sehun didn't quite remember how long he'd been sitting there, but he did know that it had been a while. He'd cleared his throat a few times in the meantime, then he'd started tapping his feet against the floor, and then he'd resorted to letting out noises from the back of his throat. When that'd resulted in nothing, and when even his various 'hello's and 'wake up's hadn't resulted in anything, Sehun had sat back instead, watching the guy sleep peacefully on the bed, curled up in a thick burrito of sheets. 

He vaguely remembered having done the same thing when he'd first come here, sleeping for hours upon hours. Sometimes he still thinks Yixing probably put something to calm him down in the tea he'd given him back then, even if he now logically knew that Yixing's healing powers were more than capable of that by themselves. He'd probably done something similar to this boy then, Sehun figured, because he was sleeping so deeply and for  _ so _ long that he couldn't imagine there being another explanation. 

Suddenly, the sleeping boy stirred and Sehun took the opportunity to make as much noise as he possibly could to bring him further to consciousness. He cleared his throat, tapped his foot against the floor – much louder, even, than he had done before – and sputtered out an enthusiastic 'good morning'. He couldn't wait anymore; he'd waited long enough. 

A loud gasp erupted from the boy's throat, after which he sat up straight in an instant. His eyes were wide, as they looked in Sehun's direction, after which he quickly eyed the door as if to calculate how long it would take him to get himself out of there. However, by the way the other's hair was sticking into every direction, and the way his eyes looked more tired than any eyes he had ever seen, Sehun could tell that he wouldn't be able to move very fast regardless. 

"Don't be scared," Sehun said flatly. He tried to smile – something he had been told to do by Junmyeon on multiple occasions – and then pointed in the direction of the food he'd brought him. "I'm just here to bring you your food. I'm Sehun. And you're Baekhyun, they said." 

The boy looked skeptical, studied him with big and wondrous eyes, until he suddenly decided to let his body relax again. "You live here," Baekhyun duly noted. Sehun nodded. 

"Yeah, and so do you. Did you know that yet?" 

Instead of answering, the other just muttered something incomprehensible and moved himself up to sit on the edge of his bed. He eyed the food, brought his hand to his stomach and pressed it firmly against himself. It was clear to Sehun that he was hungry, but for some reason he was trying to mask it. Sehun couldn't exactly figure out why that was. 

"We're brothers now," Sehun continued, adamant on trying to get the other boy to talk to him. Something about him seemed interesting, so Sehun was interested. "Did you know  _ that _ yet?"

"Is that the food?" Baekhyun asked, pointing at his plate. 

Sehun nodded, grabbed a hold of it and finally held it out to him. "It's cold now, but it should still be good. Kyungsoo made it." 

Baekhyun didn't look at him. In fact, he didn't even really acknowledge Sehun's existence anymore. He just ate, sussing the severe pain that'd started growing within his stomach. He'd been asleep for long, Sehun decided. Of course he'd be hungry. Not that he could understand why Baekhyun wasn't focusing on anything else, but he'd give it some time. Maybe the other boy was just bad at mornings. He'd give it the benefit of the doubt, considering the two of them were probably just as destined to get along as all of the others were. If it'd take time, then it'd take time. Sehun just hoped it wouldn't take  _ too _ long. 

"Are you going to come out of your room today?" Sehun asked, as he watched Baekhyun scoop some egg onto a spoon. "I heard you don't want to talk to anyone. Is that why you're not talking to me?" 

Baekhyun's eyes fell on him, but he looked away just as quickly and continued eating. He must not have liked talking, then, but Sehun wasn't going to leave it at that. Something about Baekhyun interested him, and he really wanted to know what it was. 

"Do you miss where you came from? Is that it?" Sehun hardly remembered where he came from himself, but whatever memories he had weren't very good. That'd been the case for most of them, Sehun thought, although some of them – Chanyeol, for example – didn't remember enough of it to truly say. "If that's the case, you shouldn't be too worried. You'll forget about it soon enough. Besides, I'm pretty sure being here is way more fun than being anywhere else." 

"This  _ is _ prison, right?" Baekhyun then asked. His expression was serious, although Sehun couldn't properly decipher it. He hadn't learnt how. Not yet. "Everyone keeps saying that it isn't, but it is. I was sent here, as were all of you, and no one can go anywhere else. This is prison." 

Sehun frowned, confusion beginning to settle, but then he shook his head. "What do you mean? Why would this be prison?"  _ But even more so...  _ "Why would we want to leave, when this is home?" 

"No, this is a prison you've all started to call home." The way Baekhyun was shoving the food into his mouth could almost be called aggressive now, but it confused Sehun more than it scared him. "But you all did something, didn't you? Something weird. Something that shouldn't have happened. I know, because..." He shook his head. "Doesn't matter. Something happened to each and every one of you, and now this guy in his office downstairs–" 

"Yixing," Sehun quickly interrupted. He didn't know why, but he had a feeling Baekhyun was going to say some things he wouldn't like hearing.The way he disregarded Yixing like this was already part of it. "Yixing hyung. That's his name." 

Baekhyun raised his shoulders, took a deep breath and then let it out in one go. What he was displaying looked an awful lot like frustration. "He's trying to make me forget everything. That's what he did to you, isn't it? That's what he did to himself, if I'm supposed to believe that. He says  _ he _ doesn't remember home, or – well – where he's from, but that can't be true. It can't be. Right?!" 

Sehun stared at him, expression blank. He had never heard these words coming from someone before, and especially not from a practical stranger. Not that Sehun often met strangers, and not that Baekhyun would remain a stranger for very long, but still. "I don't understand," he therefore said, because he  _ didn't _ understand. "What are you talking about?" 

"Something happened to you. Right?" Baekhyun's voice had raised a little, and Sehun couldn't exactly say that he liked it. "Something happened to you, and now you're here. And now you don't remember." 

Sehun shook his head. "No, I do remember." He just didn't want to. It had been awful, and sometimes it still came back to give him nightmares. "You can't forget. It's too important to forget, hyung says." 

He could clearly hear those words in Junmyeon's voice. He'd last spoken them years ago, because Sehun no longer brought it up these days. He didn't like talking about it. 

"Are you sure you remember?" Baekhyun asked, after which he frantically put his plate down onto his bed. He looked at Sehun, but once again Sehun couldn't determine what that expression meant. What he had come to realise, however, was that he certainly didn't like it. "Are you sure know what happened to you?" 

"Yeah, I do remember. Why would I lie?" 

"What was it, then?" Baekhyun's breath hitched, indicating that he was probably desperate for the answer. 

"I don't want to tell you. We don't talk about that. It doesn't matter. You'll know it doesn't matter." 

"Oh, but doesn't it? It's why we're here, isn't it? If it never would have happened, we would have never made it here. We would never have been  _ stuck _ here. You know that, right? You know that–" 

"I don't want to tell you," Sehun repeated, after which he got up from the bed. "I don't like this. And you're wrong anyway, because it's in the book. You probably don't know about the book, so talking about that would just be stupid." 

Baekhyun didn't say anything, and instead just stared at him. He looked angry, but that didn't matter so much to Sehun right now. He hadn't liked this conversation, and he didn't want to finish it. 

"You know what, hyung?" Sehun asked, using the word for the simple fact that he had to. They were brothers now. It was how that worked. "You should come out. You'll see that it isn't like prison at all." 


	4. Wind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sehun finds himself stuck in Edinburgh, living a life he should remember, but doesn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah! This took me so long to properly plan out but in the end it only took me four days to write. I hope you all like it!

_5 years later._

He wore a watch. It wasn't his watch, but that was all he knew. He was standing out in the garden, looking up at the sky, which was a greyer grey than he had seen in a long while, even for Scotland. It felt heavy around his wrist, weighing him down a little bit, but — then again — his entire body felt heavy and it was therefore quite difficult to move. Up on the hill, he could see the castle, and it looked impressive. He'd never been there, knowing that the king, or Duke or something, didn't allow any visitors. He felt envious of the people dressed in their simple shirts that entered through these gates every day, but there was nothing to be done about it. Sehun wasn't invited. He'd have to wait some day, for his invitation to finally come.

The house he lived in was behind him. Through the glass doors, he would be able to step right into the kitchen. It smelled of food and flowers, like it always did, and the space — the playroom, actually — would be filled with toys, like it always was. But right now, he was just standing there, looking at a castle he might never get an invitation to, while being weighed down by a dark grey sky. Life worked like that sometimes, somehow.

A wave of coldness washed over him, making him hug his arms tightly to his chest. He wasn't wearing enough, and the house behind him called him back inside. The playroom would be warm, and inviting, and Sehun had been playing with a toy train before, that might still be waiting for him there. Oh, he hoped no one had touched it, because it had taken him quite a while to set it up in a way he felt satisfied with. He supposed he would have to check.

The wind blew, pushing him backwards. Somehow it didn't startle him as much as it should have done, and he found himself stood against the glass door that lead him inside. The glass was shaking in its frame, proving that any more pressure from the wind outside would certainly get it to break if it kept on going like this. When he opened the door to get inside, it pulled so hard that it was hard for him to get it to close again, but in the end he managed.

As he had expected, the playroom around him was warm. The wind had messed some of it up, but luckily his train wasn't damaged in the slightest. In fact, it was floating in the sky, and his two younger brothers were looking at it as they sat up on their knees. They didn't seem too surprised by it, but, then again, neither was Sehun. He didn't even say anything about it; wasn't planning on it either.

"We wanted to play with it." Georgie — which was a name that Sehun still had trouble pronouncing — uttered. He had just turned seven years old, making him ten whole years younger than Sehun was. "But now it's floating."

Johnny didn't say anything about it. But he didn't say much about anything anymore. That was one of the things that made this situation so strange; that Johnny was here.

"What is Johnny doing here?" He asked. Johnny looked at him, smiling. Sehun had always liked him, but now... Now he just looked rather creepy.

"He came to visit again."

"Oh." Sehun left the playroom, wanting to get rid of the sight of the four-year-old. He felt something welling up within him. What was it? Guilt? He wasn't sure. It reminded him of guilt, at least, but he hadn't that in a long while. His parents were the last people he had felt that towards, when they came back to their entire house being destroyed, right before they'd sent Sehun to...

Ah, his head hurt. What was Johnny doing here? He'd been gone for a while, hadn't he?

The room flashed bright with light, making Sehun's stomach flutter a little. He remembered the first time he had seen bright white like this, and, despite knowing that white light only ever meant something bad, he'd missed it quite a bit. It was such a shame, he thought, that everything else around him was disappearing with it, turning the world in a bright fog of nothingness again.

"Sehun?" He felt a hand on his shoulder, shaking him through and pronouncing his name in a thick, Scottish accent. "You're having a bad dream again. Sehun?! Wake up, darling! It's not so good for you to get stuck in those dreams. Didn't I tell you? Sehun, darling. Sehunie, dear!"

Sehun opened his eyes then, groaning. He didn't understand what was going on, but he never did in the morning. The only thing he understood was that most weird things that happened were usually dreams. Apart from that, his life was perfectly normal.

His mother was looking down at him, looking concerned. That happened most mornings, because Sehun had violent nightmares that left the room around him shaking, items flying off the walls and the shelves. His mother had never held it against him, always saying that it wasn't his fault; that he couldn't help it. Sehun had always been glad for that, because he wasn't sure how he would be able to handle another truth.

"Johnny was there," Sehun said, groaning.

His accent sounded different from hers; he hadn't mastered the language fully just yet. He wondered why he spoke one so different, one that his parents hadn't even been able to identify. The only thing he knew was that his mother had told him never to speak it in public. It could cause harm to them, or something like that, potentially because they would send him to therapy, or an institution where they would lock him up and do tests on him. The thought alone was so scary that he had never even tried. The language he had picked up must have been one he'd made up. That was the most likely thing, he thought.

"What did he do?" His mother swallowed. She looked uneasy.

"He played with the train."

She nodded apologetically and then leaned down, holding him in his arms and rocking him back and forth. He liked it when she did that. It made him feel a little safer. After dreams like that, he really longed to just feel a little safer. "It's okay."

"Yes, I know it's okay." He sat up a little and rubbed his eyes. "But maybe it isn't okay for you."

His mother was quiet, but then she smiled. "It is. Do you want to know why?"

Sehun nodded.

"It's because Johnny never much liked those trains." She smiled and got up from the bed again. "You're not dreaming of the real Johnny just yet. It's going to take you some more time to really remember him, and until then we will be here. I think we're going to have a much bigger task at hand once you remember the real one; because then we'll need to move forward. And I don't think I am ready for that yet."

Sehun nodded. She had talked to him like that before, even though he never much understood what she was saying. She always talked about moving forward, and remembering the real Johnny, who was a boy that Sehun couldn't remember ever having lived with, but had allegedly been his brother when he was younger. Not that Sehun could remember that, but Sehun couldn't remember anything since before the accident. All he could remember was waking up in the middle of the street, with his face buried on a piece of cobblestone. The man who had found him — his father — had thought he was simply drunk, but then, when he had flipped him over, he had seen Sehun for who he was and taken him back home. There they had had re-taught him English, just so he was able to forget the made up language he spoke, and then they had sent him back to school.

He didn't like it there. The children there were all so young and short in comparison, but since Sehun had forgotten practically everything he had once known, they'd said it was in his best interest to simply start a few years back, no matter how embarrassing that was. Not that he felt very embarrassed; he didn't think he was capable of that feeling.

"He seems nice, though." Sehun said, after which he got up from the bed himself. "I wish I could remember him."

"It'll come, darling." His mother looked a little happier then. "And then we will be able to revive all your memories. You can count on it."

He liked Edinburgh. Or at least he didn't really mind it.

It was cold and wet here, but that wasn't so different from what he could remember his life being like. It made sense to him to the extent it managed to stop him from needing to think about anything. Sehun didn't like all that thinking all too much. It brought him to dangerous conclusions, and problematic revelations, which he would then have to work on suppressing. His mother was adamant on making sure that Sehun only remembered the correct things, rather than all those things his distorted mind had come up with along the way.

She often said that was what the mind did to people, especially after excessive amounts of memory loss. If his mind couldn't make sense of what Sehun was seeing or thinking, it would start to make up a false truth to make sense of it. Sehun still didn't understand what she really meant with that, especially because he was coming no closer to remembering anything relating to his life before his accident. He could only slightly picture it

(though not from actual pictures, of course. His mother had said that showing him pictures would set back all of their progress. Sehun had to remember it of his own accord, not by being spoon fed all of that information through his childhood photographs.)

Either way, nevermind the cold, Edinburgh was home to a whole plethora of interesting places. Especially now that he had become old enough — his passport safely stuffed inside of his back pocket — Sehun spent most of his time in pubs and bars that appealed to him. He was sure that, by this time, he had visited all of them at least once.

He'd go there when he was meant to be in class, when the thirteen or fourteen year olds in his year would spend their time learning about history, and the basics of French or even Gaelic, when Sehun didn't even properly speak English. Sehun had no interest in going there anymore, dreading the idea of feeling so bored for so many hours in a row. The fact that he was forced to spend all that time surrounded by children who all knew that Sehun was way too old to be in their class only made matters worse. Sehun had no one to talk to there.

So instead he'd rather sit down somewhere in a quiet corner away from the window, with his hand wrapped around a pint of beer while he watched a random match of football on the screen up above. _Ah_ , pint. It had quickly become his favourite word in the English language, even though he knew very well that he wasn't meant to be drinking them here at all.

He often listened to his parents (or his mother, more likely), but this was the only instance he'd cheat on his loyalty to her. It was the only thing he ever did entirely for himself, just because it was the only thing he knew for certain that he liked doing. Of all the other things, he wasn't so sure. He hadn't ever gotten any enjoyment out of listening to the music his mother had said he'd always liked, or by riding around on a bike, or going on walks, or going on holidays to the coast. Perhaps, he thought, the brain injury had simply changed him, which was exactly as far as he ever allowed his thoughts to go.

"Hey there, kid." A man sat down opposite him, but Sehun didn't notice it until a few seconds later, when it had become apparent whether a goal had been made or not.

Then he looked at the guy, somewhat startled, and feeling caught. The man was a lot older than he was, thick wrinkles etched into the skin around his eyes. His hair was greying, though patches of black hair were still visible at the tips. He looked interesting.

"Have you lost your tongue? It'd only be polite to say hello to me, won't it?"

Sehun cleared his throat and then nodded. He supposed there was some truth to the man's statement, but Sehun didn't talk to strangers often enough to know about the etiquettes. That was another thing he'd been judged about at school. "Yes," Sehun spoke. It should have been awkward, but it wasn't really. Sehun _really_ wasn't capable of feelings like that. "Hello."

"You sound foreign. Where are you from?"

"From here," Sehun stated simply. It was the answer his mother had told him to say. He looked different from everyone here, after all, and his mother said that it'd raise some questions here and there. However, she had assured him that Sehun was from Edinburgh. Nowhere else. "I always lived here."

The man raised his eyebrows. When he did, though, Sehun finally realised there was something similar about their features. His skin was a little darker, just like Sehun's, and the texture of his hair was different to the texture of the rest of his family's hair. His eyes looked a little different, too, but Sehun couldn't exactly pinpoint why he thought that. He'd never been too good at facial recognition.

"Then how come your accent sounds so awkward?" The man did something unexpected then. He leaned over the table and grabbed a hold of Sehun's passport and opened it. "Smith, huh? Sehun?"

Sehun nodded.

"How am I supposed to believe that someone who looks and sounds like you do is called Smith? Sehun Smith?"

Sehun closed his eyes and tried not to think. He had asked himself all those questions before, but he had always managed to shut them out. He looked at the screen up above again, where the players dressed in red were coming awfully close to the goal again. He squeezed his hands to fists, attempting to let everything slip away.

"Sehun, listen to me."

He felt uneasy. Part of him wanted to just get up and leave, but he saw that the man's fingers were still around his passport. Leaving now would mean that he would never get it back, and then what would he tell his mother? She had said, over and over again, just how important it was that he never lose it. She said it'd be unaffordable to replace it. Just like everything else she'd ever said, Sehun had never questioned it. "I don't want to," Sehun said defiantly. "Can you give me my passport back? I want to go home."

"What about your drink?" The man nodded at his beer. "Don't you want to finish it?"

Sehun took a deep breath. He felt his heart rate speeding up a little, which never happened apart from when he woke up from a nightmare. His hands clenched to fists and his throat felt a little tighter. He couldn't answer because of it, because his surroundings were beginning to feel unstable. Would he blow things off the table? No. He could remain emotionless. He could remain incapable of complicated emotions.

"Just one drink, okay? I have something to tell you..."

To urge him on, Sehun simply stared at him, waiting.

"I know what happened to you," he spoke. "I also know that the family you're now staying with is not your family. I know they're lying to you."

"Stop it," Sehun spoke. His voice hadn't raised, determined not to be capable of complicated emotions like anger. That was when everything went wrong, after all, and his mother always said that he couldn't afford it. "I don't know who you are, and you don't know who I am. Stop lying. It's not.."

"I am not lying to you. I know that what your 'mother' is doing to you is wrong. She's trying to fill a void, and she's using you for it." He didn't like the way the man talked about his mother, because it implied that she wasn't actually his mother. She was. She had been for as long as Sehun could remember.

His throat felt dry, and so he took a sip of his drink. His heart was pounding uneasily, and he was afraid that something out of his control would happen to him now. He took a few gumps now, just to numb it down. His mother may not be in favour of all his drinking, but at least she'd have to admit that it helped calm him down. Maybe he could use that as an argument next time.

"Are you listening to me?"

Sehun shook his head. He'd stopped thinking, pushing the thoughts out of his head like he had been taught to do. Thinking was dangerous when it happened outside with strangers, when his mother wasn't there to... control it.

"I am trying to help you, kid," the man urged on. "I want to help you get to the truth. So you know what to do next."

Why was everyone always talking about what he had to do next? Why was everyone always talking about the future, when Sehun didn't even know anything about the past? He put his empty glass down onto the table with a loud thud, the tacky, fake painting against the wall began to shake in its frame. He squeezed his eyes shut.

"I want to go home. I need..." He shook his head. Before he finished that sentence, he leaned over the table and snatched his passport out of the man's grip. "You should leave me alone. Okay?"

"Sehun, wait," the man insisted, but when Sehun didn't and simply got up from his chair and moved towards the exit, he raised his voice: "Please listen to me. I know the truth. I know how to help you find who you are. Trust me. What they're doing to you isn't right. You'll _never_ remember anything about that kid of theirs, because you've never met him."

Sehun froze. It was getting harder to breathe as his system filled itself with something complicated, something he couldn't afford to feel right now. What was it? Fear? No, terror. He was terrified. Not of the words that the man had just blurted out, but the way in which he had said them.

He wasn't speaking English anymore. Sehun knew, because he could understand him perfectly. Word for word.

"Stop it!" He shouted in English. He had been told not to use this language ever again, because it was fake. He had never heard anyone else speak it before, and the fact that the man had just used it on him was nothing but a cruel game. He had to tell his mother. He had to. "I don't want to talk to you! Don't..."

The man held up his hand and signalled for Sehun to stop talking, after which he pushed one of his hands inside of his pocket. He felt desperate enough to listen, because, of course, Sehun always listened. He always listened to everyone. This pub was meant to be the exception, but apparently that had been taken from him as well.

"Take my card. It has my number. Please just _think_ about this and get in touch with me. I can tell you everything you need to know, okay? I can help you remember everything that she wants you to forget." He was still speaking in Sehun's language — the one he thought no one spoke.

He felt the card in his back pocket, but he had not looked at it since he'd pulled it from the man's grip. He still desperately wanted to ignore that it had happened, and every time his thoughts threatened to wander in the direction of what he'd said, and the language he had used to say it, he would force himself back to reality. Reality, after all, was nothing but a world in which Sehun was not allowed to use his thoughts. His thoughts were toxic. They came to wrong conclusions. They'd remove him from his family, and got him no closer to Johnny.

And that was what everything was all about, wasn't it? Johnny. The long-lost brother that he couldn’t remember; that he might never even have known.

He shook his head, removing the thoughts from his head again. He wasn’t allowed to think this. Not at all.

"And how was _your_ day, Sehunie?" His mother asked. Normally, she'd ask the question with a smile on her face, but now there was not much of one to be seen. Sehun didn't know why. He didn't know what had changed, aside from the fact that _everything_ had changed. "How did you do on your test?"

Sehun shrugged and poked at his plate of vegetables. He hadn't said much. That wasn't so unusual, as Sehun never said a particular lot, but at least he normally responded. Now, he had stored virtually nothing of what Georgie — his little brother — had said in neither his short term, nor his long term memory.

"You're being awfully quiet, darling." She worried her bottom lip. "Did anything happen?"

Sehun shook his head. He knew he ought to tell her, but he couldn't bring himself to do it yet. Maybe he never would. Maybe that was just easier, no matter the fact that his mother had made him promise to always tell her everything.

"He probably doesn't want to talk," Georgie said. "Maybe you should let me continue my story instead? You know... I was in the middle of it, and you haven't even asked me to show my biology assignment! We're working on photosynthesis, you know!"

"Georgie, please," his father finally spoke. His voice was low and deep, always droning through Sehun's skull. It felt like a threat, almost, though he wasn't actually sure how. "Let your brother talk for once."

"He's not—"

"—Georgie, don't you start!" Another low grunt sounded through the living room.

The young boy groaned with frustration and clenched his hand around his fork. Sehun watched him do it, and tried hard not to think about the way he knew Georgie had meant to finish that sentence.

"Sehun?" His father insisted, speaking sternly. "Answer your mother and tell us what happened today."

He didn't know if he was imagining it, but suddenly he could feel the man's business card poking him through his skin. He shook his head. "I don't want to."

"Well, you're going to have to. You know what we told you about being honest. There are no secrets in this household, is that understood?" His father eyed his wife and took a deep breath. Silently, with nothing but just a glance, he asked her a question that Sehun didn't understand, to which she nodded. "Georgie, please give us a moment and go to your room."

"But my food isn't even—"

"Take it with you, then."

"I can't believe this!" For someone as young as Georgie, one would not be able to deny that he was incredibly outspoken. "You always give him your _full_ attention, and why?! He's not even your _fucking_ —"

"That's enough!" A hand clashed down onto the table and then his father scraped his chair back over the wooden floor. It made an awful, squeaky noise that was bound to have left a mark. Sehun flinched a little as he watched his father grab his young son by the arm to escort him upstairs.

That happened sometimes. Never to Sehun, though.

As he heard his father's shouting ( _'don't you dare use such foul words at the dinner table!')_ and Georgie's wailing ( _'but, daddy, no one ever listens to me!')_ fade into the background, Sehun looked at his mother, who swallowed with regret in her eyes. "I'm sorry, Sehunie. I hope you don't take any offense to that. Your brother is just confused is all. You know how that happens to young boys at a certain age. All that curiosity..." She laughed a little. "I wish you could remember the way _you_ behaved at his age. You would wonder about anything and everything."

Sehun tried not to let those words register. He didn't want to be made to question even more. Today had been hard enough as it was, after all. "It's okay," he therefore said. He squeezed his eyes shut, while he repeatedly told himself that everything was, in fact, okay. "Yeah, it's okay."

"Will you tell me about what happened then, dear?" She asked. "Your father was right. We can't keep any secrets when you're in such a fragile state. It's important you share everything with us, just so we can help you."

He sighed. To distract himself, he shoved a potato in his mouth and chewed on it. It was easier to deal with stuff when he just allowed himself to function on some sort of auto-pilot.

"I think, to help you, I might make it a little bit easier."

He looked up at her and raised his eyebrow to urge her on, while desperately hoping that she knew something that would actually help him right now. Maybe the man he'd met had been another method to make sure he would never get to Johnny's memories. He didn't know how anyone else would benefit from that, but he couldn't exclude it. He'd grown to become overly cautious and paranoid, which he now realised might be because of his mother's confusing behaviour all the time. How long had it been since he'd first regained consciousness, after all? At least two years at this point, and still... nothing. Nothing at all.

"We know that you haven't been to school," she said. Sehun looked down again.

Right. They were bound to find out at some point, though it still annoyed him that he had been snitched on like that. He didn't want this one thing to be taken from him, but there was no doubt that it would now. "I don't like it there," he said, hopeful that he might change his mother's mind a little. "I don't want to go back."

"I understand," she said. "It must feel rough to be surrounded by people so much younger than you. We too would've wanted you to be surrounded by your friends, but it simply isn't possible. Your brain has suffered too much damage, and now there is no way you would be on par with them. You know that, right? You know that we only want what's best—"

"—who were my friends?" The question shocked him. He hadn't expected it to leave his lips at all. However, it suddenly seemed important.

"Sehun, there's no point in asking—"

"—What were their names?" His stomach twisted, and he could feel a series of complicated feelings seeping into his system. "I have to know. Tell me at the least something."

"Darling," she warned, though her tone of voice remained warm and gentle. "You know we can't tell you about things like that. It'll end up messing with your memory. You know that."

"But how do you know it will?" His voice broke a little, his breathing heavier. "I need to know _something_ to remember it. Right? Is that how it works?"

She shook her head with confidence. "I'm a nurse, darling. I know how it works. I've been in the field for decades. Don't you trust me?"

Sehun said nothing for a moment then, unsure about whether he did, until it suddenly clicked. "No."

Her eyes tripled in size, and then they filled themselves with tears. She sniffled a few times, until she broke down sobbing. "Oh, sweetheart." She barely managed to talk at all. "I was afraid this might happen, but please... Please try to believe that. We would never lie to you. None of us would, okay?"

"Not even Georgie?"

She cried so hard that she agreed. "Not even Georgie."

"Why does he keep telling me that I'm not really his brother, and that I'm not really your son? Is that a truth?"

She didn't say anything for a few seconds, clearly taken aback. "Please don't... Please stop thinking, darling," she sobbed. "You're on completely the wrong track. Please pull back and let me help you get on the right one. Please..."

The shrieks that followed were awful, sending a stabbing pain through his heart. He hated the noises. It reminded him of...

No. Stop. Stop thinking.

He wasn't allowed to go there.

He fell quiet again, leaving his mother sitting there crying as he tried to rid himself of his complicated, obstructing emotions. Something told him that was going to be a whole lot harder this time around, though, as he had — to his knowledge, at least — never felt them as intensely as he did now.

"Oh, Sehun," his mother said after a while. "I thought our most difficult days were behind us, but it seems like they're only just about to come."

His eyes shot over, piercing his head straight in half. "Oh Sehun," he repeated, confusing even his mother. "Oh Sehun."

She ignored him, not understanding the significance of the two words — the surname and the given name — and simply tried to shake it all away from her. "We're going to make sure that this doesn't happen again. It must feel painful, doesn't it? You're constantly reminded of how little you remember, and you're simply filling in the gaps again. It's okay, Sehun, it's fine... We can work around it, really. This is just a minor setback. Nothing to worry about." It sounded like the woman was muttering those words more so to herself than to Sehun.

"Can I leave? I'm tired," he finally asked.

She nodded. "I'll be with you in a second, though. I don't think it's a good idea for you to be alone right now."

He nodded, and then finally excused himself.

Oh Sehun. He repeated the words over and over again. He didn't get any further with it, something blocking all of his thoughts with ease. He didn't know whether the years of staying with those people had caused it, or whether the accident had.

Another thing he'd started to notice was how much his own thoughts shocked him. He had never thought like this. He had never before even considered that there was another place he could have been before the accident, though the thoughts had always been somewhat there. He'd pushed them back, continuously, too nervous to allow himself to even think that there was another reality he may have missed. That had made it easy to stop all the thoughts, and to never allow those complicated emotions to overwhelm him. He pushed them back, just like he'd pushed everything else back.

Oh Sehun. Oh Sehun.

He moved his hand to his back pocket, taking out the card he had been handed earlier. He felt fear, shooting through him and making him feel almost sick. What had happened in the pub that afternoon had undeniably meant something, and Sehun couldn't possibly ignore it. That language... Nothing had ever sounded as clear and comprehensible as that had done.

"Sehun?" It was a small voice that sounded from behind his door. "I came to say sorry. Daddy's making me."

"Oh," Sehun muttered, then shrugged his shoulders. Of course, Georgie wasn't able to see it at all.

"Can I come in?"

"Yeah, you can."

The door opened. Georgie's eyes were red with tears and his voice sounded rough from screaming. Sehun knew that his younger brother had had a very tough time lately, but the reason for that was never really discussed. Sehun just put it down to the fact that everything was simply complicated. Just like always.

"What's that?" Georgie asked, pointing at the card in Sehun's hand.

"I don't know," he answered honestly. He sat down on his bed. His bedroom, which didn't at all look like his bedroom anymore, was getting darker and darker the later it got. He should turn on a light, perhaps, but the mere thought of it — of light — just made him feel somewhat sad now. He didn't know why. He didn't know anything. "Did you really come to apologise?"

Georgie nodded. "I did, but not because daddy made me. He told me not to come talk to you."

"Oh," Sehun said again. He didn't know how to continue dealing with all those confusing statements. "Okay... Shouldn't you listen?"

"I don't want to anymore."

Sehun didn't say anything in response and simply sighed. He looked down at the card again, studying the number on it. "Okay." _Me neither_ , he wanted to say, but he didn't. He wasn't allowed to do that. He wasn't allowed to do anything if he ever wanted his memories back.

Oh Sehun. Oh Sehun.

"A teacher came to talk to me today," Georgie said. "Do you want to know what she said?"

Sehun shrugged his shoulders. He wasn't sure anymore whether he did. Probably.

"She said that — no, actually, she didn't say that — but she knows that something weird is going on. She asked me if I wanted to talk about it, and I then I did."

"What did you talk about?"

"I talked about you, and then... Then I talked about things that mummy and daddy said I should never talk about. You know that they do that, right? They're always telling us not to talk about stuff, and I don't know if I can do it anymore."

Sehun looked at him, his expression hopeful. Even though he knew that his little brother — or _not_ brother — was going to tell him something he didn't want to hear, but at least that would make it a whole lot easier to make a decision on what to do with all of those aggressive thoughts. He tapped the card against his fingers again, imagining how comforting it would feel to speak that language. He wanted it so badly.

"They think I'm too young to remember what happened, but I'm not, even if I was only three." Sehun nodded, just to keep him going. "I know that you weren't here before. I know that you never met Johnny. I know that they didn't adopt you when you were just a baby. That was Johnny, not you."

Sehun nodded. Instead of panicking, though, he could feel himself calming down. Suddenly, it felt like the truth had come out, and like the whole world would soon start to make sense again. "Should I leave?" Sehun asked the seven-year-old, as though the kid possessed the answers to the whole universe. Well, sometimes Sehun did think that, despite his age, Georgie was a whole lot smarter than Sehun was. "Do you want me to leave?"

Georgie thought about this for a while, and then he shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know what would happen. I think mum and dad would come find you."

He looked at the card. "I might have somewhere to go. Maybe."

Georgie nodded, but then he frowned. "I don't hate you," he then said. "Maybe I said it, but I didn't mean it. I don't hate you, I just..." _hate them_... Even Sehun had heard the unspoken words.

"Do you think everything can come back to normal?" He asked.

" _Go_ back to normal," Georgie snickered. The boy was smug, showing a smirk, but then he shrugged. "I don't know. But maybe it will be better anyway. For you, I mean. So that they don't lie anymore. I don't want them to lie anymore either."

Sehun nodded. He didn't know why the thought of leaving didn't feel heavier than it did, but perhaps it was because the past few years had simply made him so tired that he could no longer stand the idea of having to stay. Especially after all the things he'd realised (although, had he realised anything at all? He must have done).

"It's not great, I think," Sehun stated.

His little not-brother threw him a confused glance. "What?"

"That we have to say goodbye now," he clarified.

"I have your phone number. Will you keep it the same?"

Sehun didn't hesitate and nodded. "Of course," he said. "Then you can call me, if you want. And maybe I'll come back if it gets bad. If I can. I don't know."

Georgie nodded, and then took a deep breath. "Okay. You can call too, if it doesn't work out. I don't want you to go away, but maybe you have to."

Sehun closed his eyes for a few seconds. "I think I'll go now. Mum— uh... _She_ will come to my room soon, so that I can't think anymore. She never likes it when I think."

"Okay..." Georgie looked down into his lap.

Before Sehun got up, he awkwardly wrapped an arm around the boy and squeezed his muscle around his shoulder. He had never done this before, but now it suddenly felt like he had to. It may have felt a little complicated, but he didn't mind it for now. "Try not to miss me," Sehun said. He meant it.

"I won't," Georgie replied, trying his best to stay composed.

Though, as his younger not-brother watched him get his stuff together, Sehun knew that he might be lying about that a little.

He would never have expected to end up back in the man's proximity, but now here he was, sitting on the sofa as he watched a steaming cup of tea on the coffee table. He hadn't said much, but there turned out to be little need for it. The man was talking a lot himself, giving him a summary of his own entire life's story. Sehun was simply intrigued, feeling himself zone out in response to a language he'd always thought he would never hear coming out of anyone else's mouth. Judging by what the man was telling him now, however, he was surprised that he hadn't heard it sooner.

"They must have known that your language existed," the man theorised. "There is simply no way that they actually thought it didn't exist. They certainly know that you couldn't have made it up, at least."

Sehun considered that as likely as the man considered it. "I don't know what to say," he admitted honestly. "I don't know what to do either."

"Well, you could start by using your own language again. Don't you want to?"

Sehun took a deep breath, and then he nodded. He felt somewhat nervous about it still, unable to realise how this wouldn't all mean that he had given in to what was easiest, just like his mother— not mother had once said he would feel tempted to do. He felt tested for exactly that reason now, but he supposed that was just what happened if you had been brainwashed for the largest part of your conscious life.

"What do you know about me?" Sehun asked. It felt good for those words to have left his lips. He'd spent the past two years thinking that he never would again. "What you said back in the pub, was that true? Can you help me find out what happened to me?"

The man pursed his lips, and then eventually he nodded. "My name is Jung Hyungsoo," he started. It told Sehun absolutely nothing. He had never heard this name before. "I've studied your case for years."

"I don't know what you mean," Sehun said. Part of him felt annoyed having to admit that he wasn't the brightest, and that he usually took quite a while to properly understand this kind of stuff. "What is 'my case'?"

"Well, Sehuh," he spoke. "That's going to be quite difficult to explain. Do you think I should tell you now, or after you've gotten some rest?"

"My mum is going to come look for me. If you don't want me to go back there, you have to tell me." Sehun was sick of not knowing. He was tired of other people having all of the information he needed to puzzle his life back together. He had been kept waiting way too long, and even to Sehun those lies had now become too much. He wanted the truth. He may not be the brightest, and may have been content living with a mother who had allegedly cared for him, but now something was aching again. Now, he could feel something — an absence of something — that he now needed to get to the bottom of.

The man — Hyungsoo — pursed his lips again and thought for a moment, until eventually he nodded. "You have to forgive me, though," he spoke. "I never thought I would meet one of you. It's been an interest of mine ever since the lights went off in Bucheon, but I don't suppose you remember that incident, nor your incident near Jeju Island. There are many more of those incidents, of course, but those two were by far the most important and significant."

Sehun threw him a look of confusion. Suddenly it was like the language had turned incomprehensible again.

"I'm sorry." Hyungsoo shook his head. "You forgot it all, didn't you?"

"I don't know those places, or what you are talking about."

The other man nodded, after which he lifted himself up from his chair. "Come with me."

Sehun did as he was told without hesitation, proving to himself that he was still quite good at following orders. He wondered whether he had always been like that, or whether the whole accident had simply changed that.

They moved up the stairs. Hyungsoo, being old as he was, clung to the railing for comfort as he began moving himself up. He breathed heavily until he was all the way up, after which Sehun followed him with ease. He was then led into a study, where a large, wooden desk stood in the middle of the room. It was large, with on it a large amount of folders that had, judging by the looks of it, very recently been opened.

"Excuse the mess. I got a little excited this afternoon. I thought you might come, of course, but not so soon. In a way, it really doesn't surprise me, though. With everything you've been through, whether you're aware of it or not, it is very understandable that you would always try to puzzle things together. You've done that all your life."

Before Sehun felt like he needed to respond, a folder was shoved into his hand. He opened it and read over the words, even though it took him a little while to figure out how to read them again. Still, though, he could scarcely comprehend what he was looking at. That seemed to be a running theme in his life: not understanding.

"The accident at Jeju Island that happened over five years ago now, was the reason you were sent to this institution," Sehun was told. "Not much is known about it, nor the people who ran it. We don't even have any information on where it was, but we do know that it is likely where you used to be before you were brought here."

When he flipped one page of the report, which contained a more detailed description of what Hyungsoo had just told him, he found himself looking at a series of pictures. They twisted his stomach a little. In the bottom right corner of the page was his own picture, on which he looked far younger than he was now. The little tabel underneath his picture contained his full name: Oh Sehun.

"You were part of a group of people that disappeared over the course of three years. You were the first, and Kim Jongdae and Byun Baekhyun were the last." Hyungsoo pointed them out on their pictures. They were all sorted by age, from what it looked like. All nine of them.

Sehun shook his head without realising it. His eyes fell on Baekhyun's picture. He looked young on it, managing to make Sehun's stomach churn violently. He didn't know why, but the sensation of something lacking pumped through his body again, making his throat ache a little as a lump formed there. "Where are they?" he asked. His voice sounded different now; like someone was obstructing it. "Are they dead?"

Hyungsoo threw him an apologetic glance, but before Sehun could read the absolute worst in there, he said: "No, I don't think so. I'd be surprised, but considering you ended up all the way here in Edinburgh, it's not unthinkable that they are all somewhere else."

"But... For what reason? Why am I here?"

To that, Hyungsoo didn't have an answer either. "We have reason to believe that this is all part of some bigger plan. I don't know about this plan, and I'm pretty sure that I'm not at all supposed to know or even speculate about this plan, but, as you can tell, this is something that has consumed me."

Sehun's eyes remained on Baekhyun's photo, allowing his stomach to ache him only more. It felt uncomfortable, and yet he couldn't stop doing it. He didn't know what he was feeling, nor what he was supposed to feel, but somewhere within him he could feel that he — at the very least — knew him. "How did you know I was here?" Sehun then asked. "Aren't you from..." He didn't even know the country he was meant to be from.

"Korea," Hyungsoo said, raising his eyebrow. "Those people did everything to ensure that you wouldn't be able to revive a single memory, did they?"

Sehun nodded. He was very sure of that now. His parents had promised him there was evidence of his life before the accident that they simply couldn't show him, while refusing to give him anything related to even his ethnicity.

"I was sent a hint one day. I still have no idea who sent it, or why they sent it to me, but it included a picture of you in Edinburgh. I recognised you from the pictures, and the news article about what happened in Jeju. You hadn't been seen since the day you disappeared from your home, until back then in Edinburgh. Then I discovered where you stayed, and why you lived with those people. I discovered what they had gone through — their lost son — and how they were using you to get to him again. They convinced themselves that you were sent to them to help them find him back. They didn't realise though, that besides your ability to control the wind, you do not have the power to get that through their heads."

"To control the wind..." Sehun repeated, he felt fearful of it, and then he shook his head. "I don't think I can control the wind. It's not..."

A handful of images flashed through his mind. One of a whirlwind, another one of a house, another one of a screaming woman, while Sehun's stomach had been hurting, and all he had been able to feel was an incredible, inexplicable anger that had begun consuming him. He took a deep breath, and then shook it off. He couldn't think about this. Not because his mother had told him, but because he knew that he couldn't. He didn't control the wind; the wind controlled him.

"It's okay," Hyungsoo said, bringing Sehun back to reality. "I think I was sent here to give you a better understanding of what to do now."

"Yeah." Sehun had no idea what else to really say. "I need to know. I need to know where to go, where I can see..." His eyes shot to Byun Baekhyun again. "I think I know him."

"I think you know all of them."

Sehun nodded in agreement, though couldn't exactly be sure. "I suppose so."

Hyungsoo put a hand on his shoulder, making Sehun look up — down — at him. "I think it's a good idea for you to get some rest. Tomorrow I can tell you what the informant told me you are meant to do, and then we can make a plan of how to get you to where you need to be."

There was a particular type of upset starting to well up within him again, making him dread what was about to come. Had it not been just this morning when he had dreamt of Johnny and when his mother had told him that everything was okay, that they were getting on the right track? His life had seemed so normal in comparison, even if he had always known that that hadn't quite been normal either.

Judging by the files in his hand, containing information he only had a very vague feeling of recognition for, he realised that everything was about to get even weirder; even less believable.

He hadn't brought a suitcase with him. In fact, he wasn't even sure whether he owned one. He had one of Hyungsoo's old backpacks on his back, and a wad of cash — _euros_ — in his pocket. Out of the backpocket of his jeans stuck his passport, which he had long since learned was a fake. It didn't matter on this occasion, though, as customs would probably let him through. He had travelled with it before, after all, and so his only concern was his family, in case they had somehow set out an alert for him.

He'd told Georgie that he was leaving. Something about that felt bad, as he felt for the boy. Perhaps that's why he asked Hyunsoo to make sure that he was fine with them. "Tell me if it's gone back to normal," he'd said. "It should now, right?"

Hyungsoo hadn't really known what to say, simply nodding and promising he'd keep an eye on him. If he couldn't go with him — which he couldn't, he was way too old — then he would do what Sehun wanted. Just as long as he would keep him up to date, of course. This was his life's work, after all: the conspiracy that had ruled his life. Somehow it had turned out to likely be true.

He had changed his number, not wanting anyone to reach out to him again. His mother had tried it continuously, until he had to block her and his dad's number. They had tried it again and again on different numbers, until he had to change it altogether. Only Georgie still had it now, and he wouldn't give it to him before the day was gone.

He went through customs without trouble. Had it not been for the fact that Sehun had forced himself not to think, someone might have seen something, but now they didn't.

He had some trouble navigating the airport, but was fine to ask the staff where he should go. It wasn't far, they said. Just at the back of the walkway, towards the gate at the back. He clutched a hold of his ticket and checked it for his seat number. 27D.

It wouldn't long now until they'd begin boarding, and then it wouldn't be long until he'd arrive in Marseille, where he would stay with one of Hyungsoo's acquaintances, until he had found what he was looking for.

He didn't know what to do there, where to look or what to look out for, but he'd see, he supposed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [shamelesspromo] Find me on twitter at @letsjustfckngo [/shamelesspromo]
> 
> AS ALWAYS :D
> 
> Also, comments and kudos are always welcome!

**Author's Note:**

> [shamelesspromo] Find me on twitter at @letsjustfckngo [/shamelesspromo]


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